Roses Are Red
by Frankie Lee
Summary: When someone begins leaving mysterious gifts for Ichigo, he begins to suspect he's being stalked.
1. Roses

**Hello! This will be my first non one-shot, however I'm not sure exactly how long it will end up being. Um, just as a fair warning, this story will contain explicit yaoi, language, AU, and maybe some slight OOC-ness, depending on how you look at it. It's written from Ichigo's point of view, just because, well, I wanted to try something new. Also, as the summary suggests, there will be someone stalking Ichigo, and that might include some pretty violent stuff later on in the plot. But I hope you enjoy!**

**Onward! **

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><p>I drop my forehead onto my desk. I feel like I can't draw anymore. Every sketch I make comes out stiff and unnatural looking. I know my deadline is in like, two days, but I can't find the motivation to actually produce anything. I mean, don't get me wrong, I want to. I really do. But it's like I've got writer's block, except with manga. Rukia's gonna kill me.<p>

Rukia is my editor. She's been with me since the beginning, since my first short stories started appearing. She even helped me get the publishing deal that brought me to where I am now. But she's hell to deal with when I fall behind on my work.

I sit up, my shoulders slumped slightly as I glare at the blank paper laying before me. It's so fucking irritating. I decide to give up for the time being, so I go to the kitchen to get something to eat. Grimmjow's in there, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

I walk up behind him and slip an arm around his waist. He smiles slightly and drapes his own arm around my shoulders, but otherwise ignores me.

Eventually I walk away and peer through the fridge. I really need to go grocery shopping again. I finally pull out the jug of milk and a box of cereal from the cupboard next to the fridge. While I pour myself a bowl, Grimmjow invites me out on a date.

We've been official for nearly a year, but being asked out like this still makes me blush. I prefer casual dinners at home, but he likes to go out. I accept his offer, though. We make plans to meet each other at a upscale restaurant at seven.

I hear the paper rustle as Grimmjow folds it and tosses it in the trash. He knows I prefer to watch the news, so he doesn't save it. I don't mind.

But then he's behind me, pulling the half-full bowl of cheerios from my hands. He presses his lips against the side of my neck. I lean back against him, pressing my back to his chest. I love leaning against him. He feels solid and steadfast.

I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, pushing one hand through his hair. I kiss him deeply, slowly. I love when we do this. He kisses me back, letting his hands rest on my hips. He slips his tongue in to tangle with mine and I let him because it feels so damn _good._

Then he's lifting me onto the counter and moving his lips along my jaw. He continues to my ear, and after nibbling for a few seconds, down my neck to my collar bone. I lean back, arching slightly into him. My head bumps into the cupboard as I tip it back. Grimmjow's fingertips have found their way under my shirt.

I look over his shoulder briefly and notice that it's almost time for him to leave for work. Reluctantly, I push him slightly away, telling him so. He just flashes one of those devilish smiles.

"So what?" he says, raking his nails lightly down my sides. Anything else I might say is drowned out by a soft groan as he rubs his fingers over my nipples. He returns his mouth to my earlobe. All I can do is clutch his shoulders and wrap my legs around his waist.

He slowly presses his hips against mine, an I can tell he's just as hard as I am by now. I open my eyes (when did I shut them?) and stare directly into his for a moment. Then he's reaching between us, yanking my shirt over my head. Then he tugs the drawstring on my shorts loose and pulls the elastic waist band down. I press my hands into the counter to lift myself so he can pull the loose athletic shorts off, along with my boxers. I don't even care that the marble counter is cold on my bare backside. I'm trying to undo Grimmjow's belt and he's playing with my earlobe again and my hands are shaking.

He's already dressed for work, in a dark suit that he looks so fucking hot in. But he doesn't seem to care if his slacks get wrinkled or dirty as they drop to the floor. His underwear follows soon after.

The olive oil is next to us on the counter and he reaches for it and pours some of it onto his hand. He takes my length in one hand while the fingers of his other seek out my entrance. He slowly stretches me, taking the discomfort away as he strokes my dick. After a few moments, he positions himself and looks at me.

I kiss him hard, giving him the answer to his unspoken question. He pushes into me and I gasp. He sucks my tongue into his mouth and pumps his hand up and down my dick while I adjust. Finally he starts moving, rocking his hips a few times before pulling out and ramming back in.

I gasp again, a low, throaty moan escaping from my lips. He sets a fast pace, and soon his loud grunts mix with my breathy moans and echo around the kitchen.

He hits that spot inside me over and over. The pleasure builds steadily, threatening to overwhelm me. It feels so good, so incredibly fucking good. His hands are on my hips and mine are in his hair. Suddenly the tight coil in my abdomen snaps and I'm coming hard.

His hips erratically piston into mine a few last times before he freezes. I feel him come just after me, spilling seed deep inside me. He lowers his head to rest on my shoulder and I wrap my arms around him again. We stay like this while we recover. He finally pulls out and I climb off the counter. My legs feel like jelly, in a good sort of way.

He pulls his pants up and I pull my shorts back on. I reach up and tug him down for a quick kiss. I smile against his lips. "You need to go, or you'll be late." He kisses me back before rubbing his thumb over my chin.

"I'll see you at seven." he says. He says goodbye and leaves my apartment. I realize that I'm still covered in my own semen. I head to the bathroom to take a shower.

Grimmjow calls me while I'm still at my workshop. My workshop is where I do the majority of drawing and inking for the manga. Rukia wanders around, checking on me and the assistants. There's two other mangakas who work here too, and they occasionally come down from their levels of the short building to visit.

When I answer the phone, I can immediately tell that Grimmjow's upset. His voice is rough and angry, and every now and then he pulls the phone away from his ear to swear at someone. But I can still hear him and it makes me laugh quietly.

Grimmjow works in the research/marketing department of the Espada Corporation. It's busy right now, and while he's a supervisor, he still picks up some of the slack.

"M'sorry, Ichi, but I don't think I can make dinner tonight," he says. Even though he's angry, I can still hear the disappointment and slight regret in his voice. I reassure him and tell him it's fine, that we can go out any night we want. I tease him and tell him to come over to my place again when he's done with work.

He agrees and we hang up. Honestly, the raincheck couldn't have come at a better time. I'm finally starting to make some progress with the storyline.

My hands have graphite smears and ink splatters all over them by the time I'm heading home. I say goodnight to Rukia and the assistants, Mizuiro and Keigo, and head into the parking lot.

I approach the driver's side of the car and slip my key into the slot. Something colorful catches my eye and I look up. On my windshield, pinned down by one of the wipers, is a rose. I stare at it for a moment before reaching for it. I pull it free and wince as a thorn pricks my thumb.

I shake my hand out, still staring at the beautiful flower. It's bud is perfect. The petals are all still curled into each other, just beginning to flare out slightly at the top. Even though Grimmjow isn't normally sentimental, I assume it's from him.

I finish unlocking the door and slip in. I start the car and pull smoothly out of the lot and onto the street. I keep thinking about the rose. If Grimmjow couldn't even make dinner, when had he had the time to leave the rose? I shrug. Knowing him, he probably delegated the task to one of his subordinates. Maybe Shawlong, or someone.

I still think it's a sweet gesture. I arrive home and head upstairs. It's just after seven, and my stomach growls. I drop my keys on the coffee table and head to the kitchen. As I'm rummaging through the cupboards, I notice that I left my half-eaten bowl of cereal on the counter earlier. I can feel myself blush as I think about our kitchen sex. I put it away and make some instant ramen.

Grimmjow doesn't like it when I eat foods like instant ramen. He thinks it's super unhealthy (which it is) and that meals should be made carefully by hand. But he's the cook, not me. Yuzu can also cook really well, but I never picked up any of her skills.

Taking my noodles into the living room, I pick out one of my favorite movies and relax. When I'm done eating, I set the empty bowl on the coffee table and curl up with a pillow.

I must doze off at some point, because next thing I know, Grimmjow's here and gently shaking me awake. I smile sleepily up at him and murmur a quiet hello. The clock on the wall says eleven thirty-six. Grimmjow leans down and kisses me. I slide a hand up to cup his face.

When we part, he pulls me to my feet and leads me to the bedroom. We make it there, but just barely, and a trail of clothing is left behind us. He pushes me down onto the bed and covers my body with his own.

We make love until we both nearly pass out, curled against each other. In the morning, we skip the kitchen sex, but agree to try and do dinner tonight. He leaves and I take a shower. I realize that I left my contacts in last night, so I take them out and slip my glasses on.

I get dressed, but keep it casual. I never have to look really nice to go to work. I choose a pair of broken in jeans, a v-neck tee, and a pair of converse. I look at myself in the mirror before I leave and smile. I look good, casual and relaxed, but good.

When I get to the workshop, Rukia reminds me of my deadlines again. I wave her off and seat myself at my desk, pulling out my sketch books and pencils. I call Grimmjow around lunch time to see if he can still make dinner. He says yes, so at six I leave and go home to change.

On my way to the car, though, I notice that there's another rose pinned to my windshield. I frown. Yesterday was one thing as an apology, but two days in a row? I'd forgotten to ask Grimmjow about the flower last night, but as I drop into the driver's seat and leave I resolve to ask him tonight.

When I get home, I head directly to my floor. I live in an apartment, four stories up. It's not huge, but it's got a master bedroom, another bedroom that I use as an office, two full bathrooms, the kitchen, a utility room, and the living room. Grimmjow's place is way bigger, but I like mine more. Even though I spend about as much time there, mine still feels more like home.

I pull my shirt over my head and toss it over my shoulder. I stand in front of my closet, wondering what to wear. I pick out dark gray slacks and a light gray dress shirt. I don't plan to wear a blazer, so I roll the sleeves up. I tuck the shirt in and slip a belt around my waist. I consider adding suspenders—Grimmjow got them for me once. I decide not to wear them, but I keep my converse and glasses on.

I leave, grabbing my keys and wallet on my way out. The drive is short, and I'm there in about ten minutes. Living close to the heart of Karakura can sometimes be a benefit.

Grimmjow's already made reservations, so there's no wait. The maitre'd smiles at me as I enter, and I greet him. I recognize him, and he undoubtedly recognizes me. Grimmjow and I come here often. I'm shown to a private booth in the back. It's still a bit before seven, but Grimmjow usually runs a few minutes late.

A server comes by and asks if I'd like some wine, but I decline. Wine is Grimmjow's thing. I normally stick to sake, or maybe something like scotch if I'm at a nicer bar. A few minutes later, Grimmjow arrives and sits across from me.

I ask him about his day and he asks about mine. I tell him about how I finally finished the chapter I was stuck on, and he seems as genuinely happy to hear that as Rukia was. I like that he values my career.

We eventually order and eat, talking about nothing of real importance. The food is good, as it always is, but by the time we're finished, I'm ready to head to his place. I want to feel him again, to have him feel me. But just as we stand, his phone vibrates loudly in his jacket pocket.

He answers it and I can tell that it's something about work. His whole demeanor changes as he speaks. He goes from relaxed and at ease to tense and somewhat angry. He scowls as he shuts his phone and turns back to me.

"Babe," he says, reaching out and twining his fingers through mine, "Something's come up. I'm so sorry." He looks so genuinely remorseful that I can't help but giggle. It's not like he's ditching me on our anniversary, or something. Which is coming up, by the way. I tell him so, and he grins.

I grip his hand and lead him outside. We walk to his car and I stand close to him. I press my body against his and we rest our foreheads against each other. Standing like this I can smell him. He smells like linen and pine and vague cigarette smoke. I love it. His hands are on my hips and mine are cupping his face and he's kissing me softly.

I tell him to go, because I understand. I want to be just as supportive of him as he is of me. I don't want to make him feel like his career is pushing me away, so instead I try to embrace it and forgive him when it separates us.

He reluctantly steps away and gets in his car. As he pulls out of the parking space, he lifts a hand in farewell. I wave back and watch as the taillights disappear around a corner. A small smile plays across my lips as I walk back to my own car, hands in my pockets. I can't wait to see him again. Is that weird? I just want to be with him.

As I approach my car, I realize that I forgot to mention the roses I'd received. But as I'm thinking about that, I notice that there's something stuck to my windshield again. I frown. What the hell? But this time it's not a rose or any kind of flower. Instead it looks like a piece of paper, or a photograph, rather. I'm confused as I lift the wiper enough to tug it free. In the dim streetlight it takes me a moment to figure out what it is.

But then I recognize it. It's a photo of me. It's a photo of me from this morning, walking across the parking lot when I arrived at work.

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><p><strong>I know it's kinda short, but I hope to post the chapters up fairly close to each other. Also, I'd love to hear from you if you liked it, so leave a review for me please!<strong>

**~Frankie**


	2. Phone Calls

**Here's chapter two! I want to thank everyone who commented on the last chap, it was great getting some feedback. I tried to change a few things this time, like the pace (which I've tried to slow a bit and even out) and the dialogue. I didn't really have a ton of dialogue in the last chapter, so I tried to add a little more in this one. Hopefully you'll find that it flows a little better. So without further ado, let us continue!**

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><p>Fuck. What the fuck.<p>

My hands are shaking and I can feel my heart thundering in my ears. My eyes are wide as I stare down at the picture. In it, I'm walking across the parking lot, headed into the building where I work. It's taken from my right, and I'm obviously unaware that I'm being documented.

I don't understand. I can't imagine why something like this is happening. Suddenly I can't help but feel like I'm being watched. I twist around, scanning the parking lot for someone suspicious looking. But I only succeed in frightening the older couple parked across from me, walking to their own car from the restaurant.

Ignoring them, I stuff a hand in my pocket and pull my phone out. I dial Grimmjow's number but pause with my thumb over the 'call' button. My breathing is finally returning to normal and I feel a bit more calm. I look between my phone and the photo before sliding the phone back into my pocket.

I take a few more steadying breaths. This means nothing. It's probably just Renji or someone, playing a kind of sick prank on me. Renji is another mangaka who works in my building. He's done stuff like this before, just before deadlines. Like when he covered the floor of my workshop with bouncy balls. Yeah, I decide, it's probably just Renji.

I crush the picture in my fist and get in the car. I toss the crumpled photo onto the passenger seat, next to the two roses. My mind is a whirling mess as I drive home, and I don't even realize that I'm speeding until I arrive home in seven minutes.

When I park, I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. What if it's not harmless? What if someone is following me? My mind has spun so many what-if scenarios that I've given myself a headache. I leave the car and head into the apartment complex.

My apartment is just as I left it. I go around checking every room after I've locked the front door behind me. I don't really know what I'm looking for, but I flip the lights on in every room as I search until the entire flat is lit up. When I'm satisfied, I take another long, hot shower before changing into a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt.

I notice that despite my best efforts to put myself at ease, my hands are still slightly shaking and my shoulders feel tense. I make myself a cup of tea and curl up on the couch to watch reruns of my favorite childhood TV show.

After a few episodes, I'm nodding off. It's a bit sad, really, how often I sleep on the couch. And I always wake in such discomfort, with knots in my neck and a crick in my wrist from leaning on it weird. I always kick myself for not having the foresight to just go to bed when I feel myself starting to fall asleep.

When I wake up, I'm in just as much pain as I'd expect. It's nothing that a hot shower and a few aspirin can't fix, though. I dress casually again, but today I wear my contacts. As I'm getting ready, I realize that I left most of the lights on last night, so I travel around the flat and switch them all off.

When I get to the office, Rukia is waiting for me with a lecture on my tardiness. I glance at my watch. Couchsurfing also has a tendency to make me late. I sigh and apologize, but try to gain some slack by reminding her of my success with the latest chapter last night.

She agrees that I did good, but tells me to do better and not cut it so close to the wire next time. I admit defeat and sit down to start working.

Half and hour in to my work, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and answer it without checking to see who it is. I'm really into this chapter.

"Hello?" I ask. It's my personal cell, so only friends and family have the number. And Rukia of course. She insisted.

The other end of the line stays silent, so I pull the phone away from my ear to see if I've been disconnected. When it shows that I'm still on the call, I frown.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" When no one answers, I hang up. The number is one I don't recognize, but I dismiss it as a pocket dial.

I don't think about it for a few more minutes, but then my phone rings again. Just like last time, there's no one on the other end. It makes me angry, the fact that someone's disturbing me like this while I'm working. Then I realize that it's probably the same person who left the flowers on my car. Before I even really think about it, I'm standing and storming upstairs to Renji's workroom.

He looks up when I burst in and smiles widely. Before he even says anything, I'm in his face telling him to leave me alone. To back off and cool it with the pranks. He looks confused, but I keep going. I tell him that I'll start retaliating if he doesn't stop.

He finally starts defending himself. He says he doesn't know what I'm talking about, that he hasn't played any tricks on me. I tell him about the roses and the picture, but he denies its him. Starting to calm down now, I frown.

"What about the phone calls?" I ask.

"What calls?"

"The ones just now, before I came up here."

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "I didn't call you." Just as he says this, my phone rings again. It's so cliché and stupid but Renji and I stare at each other for a moment before I answer it. I raise it to my ear and my hand's trembling a bit.

"Hello?" There's no answer so I hang up almost immediately. Renji gives me a hard look. He asks if Grimmjow knows that I'm being stalked.

My head jerks up and I look at him. I tell him I'm not being stalked. I refuse to believe it, but he only shakes his head. "I don't know, man." He gives me a look, that _knowing_ kind of look, like he's got all the answers in the entire flippin' galaxy.

But before I can really think about it, Rukia storms in and demands that I get back to work. She drags me back downstairs but I can't really concentrate anymore. Am I being stalked?

I guess it makes more sense than some kind of joke. But why would someone stalk me? I'm not that interesting. I'm not that famous. I think about what Renji said. Should I tell Grimmjow? Like last night, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial his number.

But I can't bring myself to press 'call.' I set device on the table and rest my head on my arms, staring at it. I've totally forgotten my work but even if I hadn't I would ignore it. I stare at the phone so hard I'm sure I'm melting holes into the side of it, but I still can't place the call. A silent war is raging in my head.

Grimmjow's been so busy at work lately and I really don't want to disturb him. But he's also not had a lot of time for me recently, and it would be kind of nice to see him worry over me. On the other hand, he's also the jealous type, and I don't want to argue over something this stupid. But I know that he would want me to tell him what was going on. Honestly, though, it's probably harmless. It's likely just a secret admirer who lacks the courage to confess their feelings to me up front. But Grimmjow would be hurt if he found out about it and thought I was hiding things or having an affair. But shouldn't he trust me enough to know that I wouldn't jeopardize our relationship over some passing fling?

Fuck. Why does this have to be so complicated? Why can't my life just run smoothly for a change? I bang my fist on the table loudly, startling the assistants before I reach out and rest my hand over my phone. I run my fingertips over the smooth surface of the screen before putting it away. Sitting up slowly, I decide to tell him if things keep escalating. Flowers and phone calls are manageable. I'll just start taking a taxi and screening my calls. That should give whoever it is the message to leave me alone.

I return to my work and the rest of the day passes uneventfully. Except for a few more phone calls, nothing else is out of the ordinary. There isn't even anything left for me on my car when I leave. I stay late, though, and try to get as far as a can. I don't get vacation days unless I'm ahead of schedule on the manga, and well, with me and Grimmjow's anniversary coming up... I just think I'd like a couple of days off around that time.

When I get home, I make myself instant ramen again before collapsing on the couch. It's nearly eleven and my eyes start sliding shut. Remembering the night before, however, I push myself up and walk my lazy ass to bed.

I sleep fitfully, waking up several times during the night. I don't have any dreams that I remember, but I finally give up just after four. Throwing my legs over the side, I rub my palms over my tired eyes and try to figure out what to do with myself for five hours.

I remember that it's been almost a week since I did anything physical, well, besides my frequent exploits with Grimmjow. Sighing, I stand and shuffle to my dresser. I pull out a pair of shorts and a loose tee shirt before digging my trainers out of the closet and lacing them up.

It's freezing outside, making my skin immediately erupt in goose bumps. I wish I'd brought a sweatshirt, but I don't feel like going back inside. It's early spring, and there's still wispy fog swirling around the streets. It's still relatively dark outside and the streetlamps are all still on. There aren't any cars out yet, but why would there be? I suck in a deep breath and try to ignore the chill as I start out at an easy jog.

I go a few blocks before picking my pace up a bit. The air is cold rushing over my skin, but I can feel my body temperature slowly rising as I run. It feels good to be out and active again, better than I thought it'd be.

I've always been fairly active. When I was in high school and college I ran track, which kept me in shape, but I also used to lift weights with the rest of the team. Regardless of how much I'd lift, though, I would only really build lean muscle. Since then, I've lost some of the muscle tone, though I'm still in really good shape. Grimmjow works out religiously, and it shows in his physique. He lives in a condo that has a full gym on the ground floor. Sometimes I use it, when I feel like trying to rebuild some of the muscle that I've lost, but normally I just stick to running and eating (sorta) healthy.

I make it to the bakery that marks a mile from my place. The bakery has it's lights on, getting ready for breakfast and commuters, but it isn't open yet. Glancing at my watch, I notice that it's only four twenty. Not many places are open at this hour.

I hang a left at the bakery and head to the park. The park is another half mile and has a huge pond that I like jogging around. The place is empty when I get there, but I didn't really expect any different. My body is warm now, and as I jog I can feel sweat starting to accumulate on my skin.

The water is calm as I jog next to it, and only the occasional breeze disturbs its surface. I make the full circuit after only a few minutes and leave the park. I start making my way home at this point, but I take a longer route that leads me in almost a full circle from where I started. By the time I reach my apartment building, I've gone more than five miles and it's just after five in the morning.

When I get up to my flat, I take a long hot shower. As I head into the bathroom, I catch a look at myself in the mirror. You can definitely tell I've only had a few hours of sleep; my eyes look tired still and there's faint blue shadows under them. I shrug and step under the steaming water.

Rubbing shampoo through my hair, I think about what to do for today. I'm progressing well through the latest chapter at work, but I'd really like to see Grimmjow at some point. I know he's busy but it's been almost two days since I've spent time with him. A sudden thought strikes me. Why don't I visit him at work?

He's been to my office a few times, dropping me off or picking me up for lunch, and I've been to his office once or twice. It's nice there, I guess, but I've never been a cubicle kind of guy. His job has a lot of numbers and statistics and science attached to it, whereas mine has imagination and creativity and flexibility. I feel stuffy and out of place when I visit, which is why I don't go very often.

But since it's been a few days since we've seen each other, I'll suck it up and bring him lunch. It should help him unwind and de-stress.

I smile as I turn the water off and dry myself. I'm suddenly very excited for this afternoon.

When I'm dressed for the day, I decide to make myself a real breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hashbrowns—the works. It's absolutely delicious, too. I clean up when I'm done and grudgingly leave for work, calling a taxi to pick me up at the front.

It's barely seven when I unlock the doors and let myself in, and still cold. Rukia normally shows up around eight-thirty, but no one else comes in until at least nine. I normally amble in around nine-thirty, but Rukia goes nuts if I'm any later than ten.

I flip on the lights in my workroom and go about getting it ready for the day. I pull out a few sketch and reference books and lay them on the table around where I'll be working. I pull out the folder containing the last few completed sheets of the chapter before setting out a collection of pens and pencils and erasers.

I finally sit down and pull over a blank sheet of paper. I always start off warming up, getting the creativity flowing before starting on the real thing. I sketch out a few figures before practicing my favorite characters from the manga. I even add a few familiar faces from Renji's current project. We read each other's stuff, but we both claim to only have a professional interest in it. I am, however, a closet fan of Renji's piece, something I would never admit out loud.

When Rukia walks in later, she's obviously surprised and a bit confused at my presence. I briefly explain my sleeplessness to her before showing her what I've got. I've completed another page since arriving, and am supremely proud at how detailed I've managed to make it. That's something I've noticed about myself. When I'm working either very late or very early, I'm able to focus on a single thing for much longer than normal. It makes it easier to create quality panels and pages.

Eventually the assistants show up, and I set them about the tasks of researching. The next story arc contains some new fantasy ideas and I'll be needing some background information. I fell bad making them do busy work, but I don't really have much else for them to do. If it weren't for Rukia insisting, though, I wouldn't have assistants at all. I've always preferred to do things on my own.

Shortly before noon, I call Grimmjow and ask if he's free for lunch.

"Hey," I say, when he answers.

"What's up?" He's only said two words, but I feel like he's distracted. "Not much," I say, keeping it simple. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get lunch together today.." He's silent for a second before answering. "I can't really get out of the office right now, we've been really busy."

"That's okay, I was actually wondering if you wanted me to pick something up and bring it up to you."

"That works. I can't guarantee we'll have a ton of time, but you're welcome to come over. When will you be here?"

I tell him I'll be over in an hour and that I'll bring teriyaki. He agrees and we hang up. I finish a few details before putting my stuff away and letting Rukia know I'll be leaving for a bit. I don't bother taking another cab, instead opting for the commuter train.

I leave a short while later, excited to see Grimmjow, but also a bit sad for a reason I can't really place.

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><p><strong>So, did it work better than the last chapter? If you liked it, let me know!<strong>

**I also ****wanted to clarify a few things: this might spoil it a bit for some, but I do plan for this story to have an eventual happy ending, even if it's not 'happy' in the conventional sense of the word. There is also a point for writing it in this perspective. I want to show how Ichigo's mindset changes throughout his ordeal, to show his thoughts about the whole thing.**

**I hope you're not mad at me for giving it away, well, for kind of giving it away! But again, I appreciate the feedback and support, so drop me a review before you leave, thanks!**

**~Frankie**


	3. Letters

**What? Frankielee's back? What is this blasphemy?**

**Anyways, sorry about going MIA with no warning! Just after I posted the last chapter I moved into my dorm at college! Yep, that's right folks, I'm officially a college scholar now! But between adjusting to classes, making friends, and trying to avoid the "freshmen fifteen," I neglected my storytelling obligations. And for that, I am deeply apologetic.**

**But now I'm back, hopefully to continue posting somewhat regularly. I won't make any promises, especially because I don't want to disappoint again, but I will try to be more faithful in updating. So, without further ado, let me present you with chapter three!**

**(And, you know, standard warnings apply: language, AU, OOC-ness {A bit}, and mature sexual content)**

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><p>I barely make it to Grimmjow's office alive. The researchmarketing division of Espada corps sprawls across the entire twentieth floor, and it's an absolute madhouse. People are dashing through the aisles between cubicles, shouting across the room, and hollering into phones. I'm nearly run over several times.

But then I'm closing the door behind me and Grimmjow kisses me softly on the lips. I smile and blush like a fucking virgin at the contact . It's only been two days, but my body craves his. "Hi," I breath. I can feel his breath ghosting over my skin, can smell the slight hints of cigarette smoke and mint gum on it as the tips of our noses brush. "Hey." He says.

He's kissing me again and a nearly forget the plastic bag of teriyaki hanging from my wrist until I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck. When I notice it, I pull away and set it on his desk. Grimmjow wraps his arms around me and kisses the side of my neck. I look back slightly. "I've missed you too," I say, chuckling. I can hear his stomach growling.

I open the plastic bag and pull out both Styrofoam to-go boxes, as well as two pairs of cheap chopsticks, handing one of each to Grimmjow. "Smells good, thanks." He sits at his desk, leaning back and resting his feet on his desk while he eats. I take the couch next to the desk, opening my own box and lifting a piece of chicken to my mouth.

We're both silent for a few minutes until our hunger is somewhat under control. "Busy today, huh?" I ask, motioning to the door.

Grimmjow's office is large, with the back wall mostly consisting of just windows looking down on the busy street below. He's got a large desk in the corner, angled so he can see outside. Bookshelves line the walls and are filled with all sorts of things besides just books.

Grimmjow snorts. "Busy? Che, we're beyond busy. And it's been like this for days. Apparently, one of our competitors in Las Noches just revealed a prototype for a new tablet model, which wouldn't be that big of a deal, except that it closely resembles one that we've been working on for months. Upper management is convinced that somewhere, in some department, there's some sonofabitch selling out secrets to other companies, and likely making a fat profit off it."

I stare at him, open mouthed. I may not be in a line of work like Grimmjow and Espada Corps, but I imagine corporate espionage is similar to say, Rukia selling my plot points to a rival mangaka. Which would be incredibly fucking devastating to the future of my work.

"No wonder you've been so busy." I say, taking another bite of my food. Grimmjow also takes another bite before continuing. "They're riding us division managers to figure out who it is while at the same time trying to run our normal operations. Fuckin' ridiculous, if you ask me."

We fall silent again for a few moments, both of us lost in our thoughts. I'm still trying to understand how someone could be that low. Sure, the economy still kind of sucks, but hell, if you work for Grimm's company, then you're making good money.

I'm spaced out, staring at the grain in the wood of Grimmjow's desk. It takes him saying my name several times before I notice. I look up and Grimmjow's smiling widely.

"What?" I say, coloring slightly. "Nothing, nothing..." he says, completely unconvincing. "You're just really cute when you're spaced out like that." I blush almost instantly as his comment sinks in. "I am not cute," I mutter under my breath, looking down. But Grimmjow hears this and only laughs. He sets his empty lunch container on the corner of his desk before standing and making his way to where I'm seated.

He drops next to me and stretches his arm out along the top of the couch, letting his hand fall on my opposite shoulder. I move closer to him, leaning against him while I finish my rice. _God_, I think, _he smells so good._ I look up at him, but he's got his head tipped back and his eyes closed. His breathing isn't deep and regular though, so I know he's not sleeping. I set the box on the small end table and lean back into him, twisting so I can drape my legs across his lap.

Grimmjow's eyes are still closed, but there's a small smile on his lips. I lean up and kiss him on the edge of his jaw, nipping slightly. His eyes remain closed, but his smile has turned into a full on grin. I grin also, kissing my way down his neck to his collarbone. Finally, he reacts, wrapping his arms around me. He pulls me full into his lap, hands on my hips, encouraging me to straddle him.

I comply, and he kisses me fiercely. I open my mouth and let him in, running my tongue against his. His hands run up my sides and across my shoulders before sliding back down to my hips. His fingers squeeze my thighs before he moves them back to grasp my rear. He rubs his hands up my back, slipping them under the hem of my tee shirt. It all feels so good.

I pull away briefly. "We should stop before this goes any further," I say, staring into his darkened eyes. "Yeah," he says, leaning down and nipping my chin, "you're probably right.." He kisses me again, and before I even understand what's happening, my shirt is pulled over my head tossed across the room. "No, really..." I almost plead, "someone could come in..."

"You started it..." Grimmjow growls and nips at my lower lip, but finally gets up, depositing me onto the couch.

He quickly strides across the room and locks the door, looking back at me and flashing that devilish grin. He slowly makes his way back to where I am, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. And my heart is pounding so fast in my chest but Jesus, he's so fucking hot I think I literally start panting slightly.

I smile up at him as he lowers himself back onto the couch with me, kissing down my neck to my chest and pressing me into the cushions. I let myself enjoy it for a few moments before deciding to take control.

"You're right," I say, sitting up, "I did start it." I give him my best mischievous smile while I slowly undo his belt. "Now let me finish it."

I push him onto his back and pull his pants off. He almost gasps as I slip my hands under his boxers and palm his trembling erection. My own pants are painfully constricting but Grimm wastes no time reaching for the button and helping me out of them. I let him help undress me, but then I put a hand on his chest and push him down. I'm determined for this to be my show.

I pull his boxers off and swiftly take his length into my mouth. He stifles a cry with his fist, letting his other hand find my hair. I run my tongue along the underside, pressing against it firmly. I give it a strong pull, sucking it deep into my mouth and eliciting another quiet growl. While I take him deeper, I slip a hand around into my own boxers and press a finger into my entrance. Grimm's watching me, his eyes hooded and his breathing shallow as I slowly stretch myself and pleasure him.

I can tell he wants to take me so badly, I can see him visibly shaking in his effort to let me do my thing. When I feel like I'm ready, I remove my boxers and lower myself back onto his lap, grinding our swollen members into each other. Finally, I sit up slightly and position myself over him. He pulls me down for a deep kiss as I drop onto his hard length.

Any sounds I could make are stifled by his mouth as my body adjusts to him. We really need to do this more often. After a few moments a tentatively roll my hips a few times. We both gasp against each other's lips.

After a few more seconds I lift myself up and fall back down, impaling myself on him. He begins meeting me thrust for thrust, lifting me from the couch with each powerful joining. Every movement hits something deep within me, making me tighten and clench around him. God it feels so good. Our lips crash together as the pace quickly escalates into something frantic, our grunts and moans choked by our kiss.

Finally my body tenses, and I teeter on the edge for a split second before spiraling into unprecedented pleasure. He follows just after, his muscles contracted and face split in a wide gasp as our bare chests rub against each other. I collapse on top of him, chest heaving as I try to regain my breath.

Grimmjow kisses my forehead sweetly when I finally sit up and start gathering my clothes. He pulls his own boxers and slacks back on before rebuttoning his shirt. He runs a hand through his tousled hair before fixing his tie. I can't help but watch him; everything he does is gorgeous.

His tie is still crooked after he messes with it, so I reach up and straighten it, kissing him chastely on the corner of his lips. He kisses me back softly and we stand together for a few moments, a calm respite from our busy lives.

"Since we haven't really managed to find much time to relax together, how about dinner at my place tonight?" He pulls me in tighter and rests his chin against my hair. "That sounds fantastic." I say, inhaling his scent deeply before stepping away. "I'll see you around eight?" I locate my bag and slip it over my shoulder, looking back at him. "Sounds great. I'll see you then."

I make my way to the door and open it. "Right. See you then." I glance back into the room to see if he's watching me leave, but he's already sitting at his desk again and going through paperwork. He briefly glances up as I'm leaving and throws me an encouraging smile, one I return as I shut the door behind me.

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><p>On my way back to the studio, I decide to make a quick detour to my apartment. It's on the way and there's a few things I forgot on my way out this morning, but mostly I just really want to take a quick shower. I always feel kind of gross after sex; I'm not a big fan of the feeling of dry sweat and semen.<p>

I hailed another cab after visiting Grimmjow's office and pay the driver as I get out at my building. The day is bright and clear, if a bit chilly, so I pull my collar up as I hurry inside. The doorman greets me as I enter and walk past the wall of mailboxes. I stop for a moment; when was the last time I got the mail?

I pull my keys out and quickly scan the wall for my apartment number. Finding it, I slide the key into its slot and pull the door open. Apparently, it's been quite awhile since I last picked it up. The box is crammed full of letters, coupons, notices, and other spam. I yank it unceremoniously from the cube and tuck it under my arm as I continue up to my apartment.

When I've reached my door, I let myself in and deposit the stack of mail on the counter. I don't even look through it yet, heading straight for the shower.

I keep it quick and I'm back out and redressing ten minutes later. I make sure to thoroughly dry my hair before heading back out to grab my keys. Rukia is a cunning, ruthless editor, and rarely misses a thing. I don't need her pointing out my recent shower after seeing my boyfriend. Although, there isn't really anything wrong with that.

When I leave the bedroom, I start the hunt for my keys. I always manage to lose them, regardless of how briefly I've left them. They aren't in my pockets, or in my messenger bag, but I finally find them under the stack of mail on the counter. But I'm not as elated as I normally would be to find them. One of the letters out of the stack has caught my attention.

It's in a plain envelope, addressed to me but with no return address. I flip it over and run my finger under the flap, giving myself a painful paper cut in the process. The letter inside is on some kind of thicker paper—parchment, maybe? I pull it out and unfold it. What I read makes my blood run cold.

It's short and rather simple, handwritten with care and centered in the middle of the page:

Ichigo, did you not love the roses?

You seemed to, the way you kept and treasured them.

But if you loved them, then why betray me?

Can you not understand my devotion to you?

I don't understand. Is he talking about my lunch with Grimm today? And how long has he been watching me, how did he know? My hands are shaking and my eyes are wide. I don't know how long I've been standing there, but finally my phone rings. It startles me, but I answer without thinking.

"Hello?" The line is silent for several seconds, and I realize that I should probably hang up. But something stops me. Finally, I hear his voice.

"Ichigo... Ichigo, did you read my letter yet?"

"Who the fuck is this, what the hell do you want?" My anger is finally snapping, I can feel the rage building and overwhelming me. I take a few steadying breaths.

"Ichigo... Why are you angry, Ichigo? Can't you see I just want to protect you? Can't you see that I love you, Ichigo?"

I'm yelling now. "You're fucking sick, you know that? Just leave me alone, stay the hell away from me, understand?" I end the call and slam my phone down on the counter, cracking the screen. I stare at it for a few seconds, but then the screen lights up and it vibrates again, skittering across the counter top slightly. It's the same unknown number, and without thinking or answering, I pick the damn thing up and chuck it across the room, watching as it slams into the wall. There's a sizeable dent in the sheetrock of the wall, but my phone is completely destroyed. And I don't even care.

I drop my bag back on the floor and head back into my room to take a shower. I turn on all the lights again, and the stereo, turning the volume up on my way to the bathroom. I decide that I'm not going back into work today. But I also decide that I have to tell Grimmjow. The bastard's sending me letters now, and Grimmjow has a right to know what's happening in my life.

In the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot and underlined by deep, dark shadows. I wonder how Grimmjow didn't notice my sleepless appearance earlier. My skin is paler than normal, and even my hair seems to be a dimmer color. It's only been a few days since this started. I wonder how long it might continue. I don't think I have the patience to withstand it. I need Grimmjow to support me in this. I need to not be alone.

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><p><strong>So, again, I'm terribly sorry about the wait for this, but I hope it was at least somewhat worth it. From here on out, the story might have some time lapses, but the action is finally starting to pick up. I hope for those of you who have stuck with me this far to please continue reading and reviewing. Reviews are my confidence and are a sure way to keep me motivated to write ;) anyway, thanks again for sticking with me, I hope you enjoyed it!<strong>

**~Frankielee**


	4. Concerns

**Hello again! I hope this update finds you all well and looking forward to the coming holidays:) Anyway, you'll notice that toward the end of this chapter the POV switches from Ichigo to Grimmjow. This may not happen often, but it will always be announced in some way so as to avoid confusion. As for warnings, you should know what to expect by now: AU, explicit yaoi, OOC-ness, language, yada yada yada etc.**

**Anyway, please enjoy!**

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><p>I let myself into Grimm's condo. He's got a key to my place and I've got a key to his. But I think this is one of the only times I've actually used it.<p>

His condo is huge, loads bigger than mine, and normally I love relaxing here. But before I can let go of the tension, I travel around the rooms, flipping on all the lights and checking closets. I know in my mind that there's no possible way for anyone to have gotten in, but I can't shake the feeling of being watched.

Back in the main living room, I turn on the television and surround sound; I find the quiet uncomfortable now, too. I leave it on cartoons, though.

I leave everything on and head to the office. Grimmjow has been more than accommodating for my occasional weekends spent here; he's given me half of the spacious office for art and work supplies, having crammed all of his stuff on one side. I decide to try to get some work done, especially considering how I blew off the rest of the day at work. I inwardly cringe, knowing Rukia will have my ass tomorrow for bailing.

But then I remember why. I remember the letter, where it sits folded and tucked away in my messenger bag to be shown to Grimmjow later. And thinking about it, my hands are shaking again and I feel sick to my stomach. I don't understand if this is just stress, or if I'm officially legitimately terrified. I just want to know why, why me and why now? The roses, the phone calls, the letter—oh God, I feel like I'm gonna be sick.

I collapse into the desk chair breathing shallowly and shaking all over. I feel like I want to throw up, but I force myself to calm down. I take a few deeper breaths and close my eyes. It's over, I tell myself, I'm safe here at Grimmjow's. No one can call me here, watch me here. After a few moments I open my eyes, a bit calmer now. I try to put the whole situation out of my mind.

I turn my eyes to the supplies laid out before me on the desk, neatly organized and untouched since the last time I worked here. I pull a clean sheet of paper out and a pencil and start sketching. Like usual, I start off with the familiar forms and faces of my characters before moving on to other people, objects, and scenery. I sketch out the rough panels for the next page and fill them in with vague shapes and lines. When I've got everything laid out right, I tug a clean sheet out of the stack and, with the help of a ruler, outline the final positioning of the panels. Like the "sloppy copy," as Rukia likes to call it, I fill in shapes first, adding detail later. When I'm finally finished and satisfied, I move to the back of the room where the scanner lies.

Normally, when I finish a page I let the interns at the office scan it in and touch it up. But occasionally, I like to fiddle with the page on a screen, instead of with a pen or pencil. I'm just about to hit the _start_ button when I realize that in my haste to leave my apartment, I completely forgot to grab anything to get me through a temporary stay with Grimmjow. Sure, I have a few tee shirts here and could probably borrow a pair of Grimm's shorts, but I don't even have my laptop or tablet, both of which are necessary for me to digitally tweak my storyboard. Reluctantly I retrieve the almost-finished page from the machine and return to my desk.

With nothing else to do, I pull a fresh piece of paper out and start on the next page.

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><p>I must have lost track of time, because suddenly Grimmjow's peering at me from the office doorway with a look of confused curiosity on his face.<p>

"Hey," he says, scaring me half to death. I jump in my seat, jerking my hand across the page and leaving a jagged ink smear. I glance at the clock before apologetically turning to face Grimm. It's a bit after eight—I've been working for almost six hours straight. He's obviously confused about all the lights and especially about me being here so early, but he's got this goofy smile spreading across his features. And I can't help but smile back. No words are needed. He's here and he's mine and for whatever reason I can't help but feel this overwhelming surge of love toward him and reassurance that everything will be okay.

I stand from where I was still somehow seated and cross the small room. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest. "Everything okay, Ichi?" All I do is nod, hoping that he won't see through me to the truth. I know I still need to tell him at some point, but right now I don't want to spoil the moment. It feels so nice here in his embrace, but I eventually raise my head and look at him. He's regarding me carefully, and for a second, I'm scared he's gonna call me on my bluff. So I try to bury my fears even deeper. "You know I love you, right Grimm?" Finally, he flashes his smile again and kisses me sweetly. "Mmhmm. And I love you too. But come on, if you're still up to it, I promised you dinner."

I agree and he unwraps his arms from around me but still holds my hand, leading me from the room. "What are you making for me?" I ask teasingly. I've never really been a cook, but Grimmjow is absolutely fantastic in the kitchen—both in his cooking and in other things—and often likes to have me over to cook for. He smiles at me over his shoulder. "Unless you had other thoughts, I was planning to make pasta...?" I smile at him. "Sounds wonderful, " I say, and I really mean it. It sounds warm and comforting and delicious.

I follow him into the kitchen, but hang back at the counter, taking a seat on a bar stool. I rarely offer to help anymore, as I usually end up either just getting in the way or making a bigger mess. We make idle chatter as he works, but I'm more interested in what Grimmjow's doing with his skilled hands. He really is a beautiful man. I watch as he chops what look like onions into smaller chucks, his long fingers wrapped deftly around the handle of the knife. Whenever he leans over, a small lock of hair always falls in his eyes. He pushes it away impatiently, but it falls right back with his next movement. And his movements are so graceful, even for a man. His steps are light and his motions sure. I study the form of his body even through his untucked button-up, I follow his spine with my eyes as it winds down from the nape of his neck to the small of his back. I watch him stir the bubbling white sauce, noticing how the muscles in his forearm flex and work with each stroke. Why have I never tried drawing him?

Finally he removes the pans from the stove and adds the steaming pasta to the sauce. At some point he'd popped some slices of french bread into the oven for toasting, and now he pulls them out, tossing them in his hands to prevent them from burning him. I come around the counter and dish up my own plate of the gooey pasta, snagging a piece of the bread, and head to the small table in the corner of the kitchen.

Grimmjow has a larger, more formal dining room, but when it's just the two of us, we prefer to eat here. It's smaller and more intimate than a large table with room for ten. I sit in my usual seat, but Grimmjow only sets his food down before returning to the kitchen. He comes back with a bottle of red wine and pour us each a glass before sitting down. He knows I prefer not to drink wine at restaurants, but here in private I don't really have any qualms about it. We clink our glasses together before starting our meal, but as always, Grimmjow waits to start until I've taken a bite.

"Oh my God, Grimm, it's delicious." I don't understand why we eat out at all when Grimmjow can cook like this. And even though he's so good at it, he always seems to need to hear that I like it before he can enjoy a meal. I've never understood exactly why, but cooking seems to be both one of Grimm's greatest talents and sources of insecurity.

He smiles at me, though, and takes a bite of his own, closing his eye and savoring the taste. "I'm glad you like it."

Halfway through my meal, I lift up my glass and take a small sip of wine. I regard Grimmjow over the rim, smiling slightly. I know that I still need to tell him, but this moment is just too perfect. So instead I move my foot to rest against the inside of his. He doesn't seem to notice right away, so I slowly slide it up to his ankle before catching the edge of his pant leg and tugging on it. He finally turns his attention to me, setting his fork on the edge of his plate. He raises a delicate eyebrow. "Are you playing footsie with me?"

I shrug, feigning indifference. "I was _trying_ to play footsie with you. But since you don't seem to care, I guess I'll just have to settle for doing something else with my foot..." I smirk slightly and run my foot slowly up the inside of his leg to rest against the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

Grimmjow just stares at me, his eyes slightly narrowed. "You're playing a dangerous game, strawberry. Finish your food." He stares me down for a few more seconds before returning to his plate. I do the same, but every few mouthfuls, I shift my foot a bit, moving it closer to him and rubbing slightly. I can't help but smile every time I see his breath catch a bit or his eyelids momentarily flutter closed. I know I'm poking a sleeping bear and will likely receive some sort of consequence once we've finished, but I can't help but look forward to it.

Finally we both finish our pasta and start the cleanup in the kitchen. Grimmjow's playing it cool, but I know I've made him hot, and I can't say I'm altogether opposed to the idea of losing myself with him tonight. We both take every opportunity to drive each other mad while we finish up. I'm washing a pan at the sink and he comes up behind me, reaching around with both arms to wash something and letting his breath ghost across my neck. I press myself against his legs as I replace the pans in their drawer under the stove, looking up at him through my lashes and letting various parts of my body brush against various parts of his as I stand back up. He presses me back against the counter, chest to chest as he reaches above me and into a cabinet to replace the seasonings he'd used in the spice rack. But I push it a bit to far when he corners me again by the fridge. He presses his chest against my back while I slide the bottle of wine into an available space and I wiggle my hips back and forth, grinding my hips into his slightly as I bend over.

Neither of us care that there are still dishes to be put away or even that there's no music. He settles his hands on my hips, pulling me closer to him and grinding into me. I lean back against him and lift one hand to tangle with his hair. I let the other hand rest atop one of Grimmjow's. We move sensually against each other for a few more moments before Grimmjow moves his free hand to my belt. I know what's coming and can't help but let my breathing speed up. He slowly undoes the belt and moves to the button of my jeans, which he also manages to undo one-handed. He pulls the zipper down at an agonizing pace, and without him even touching me, I'm already rock hard and panting. I can tell Grimmjow's pretty aroused too; his erection is pressing into my lower back just above my butt.

But then his hand is slipping inside my jeans, caressing me through the thin material of my boxers. I groan low in my throat and he withdraws, only to slide his hand into my pants again, this time under the edge of my boxers. And fuck, it feels so good. It's slow and tortuous and amazing and intense all at the same time. As Grimmjow moves his hand against my erection, he turns his lips against my neck, sucking and kissing and surely leaving a mark. And I don't know exactly why, but his slow searing touch is somehow making me feel like a virgin again, and I can only blush and moan and let him have his way with me. My skin is on fire and I feel like I'm burning up because of this gorgeous man behind me. I whisper his name as he gently bites into the soft flesh of my neck, squeezing my dripping member with a determined strength before moving it back down. The rhythm is so steady and measured and I can't for the life of me understand how Grimmjow's maintaining this amount of control when I'm writhing in his arms like I am.

"F-faster, please Grimm..." I turn my head into his, but he moves up to whisper and bite at my ear. "You teased me earlier, did you not expect the same back?"

"Ah! Grimm..jow... please... it's not fast enough..ugh.." I can feel my climax approaching slowly, so slowly. Grimmjow only smiles against my bruised neck and continues his ministrations. He slides his hand from the base of my dick to the tip, circling the head with his fingertips and digging the edge of a nail into the slit before sliding back down, pausing every now and then to squeeze tightly. It's so good and so bad at the same time; I want to reach in there myself and finish what he started at a more acceptable pace. But his determined fingertips finally bring my release. My orgasm slams into me, making all thought impossible as stars explode behind my eyelids and the air leaves my lungs. I forget to breath, forget to think as I ride on the waves of ecstasy. My hand curls in Grimmjow's hair to what I'm sure is painfully tight for him, but my muscles are are contracting as my body experiences mind-blowing pleasure.

I'm gasping as I come down from my high. I spin in Grimmjow's arms and bury my face in the crook of his neck while I wait for my breathing to calm down. I kiss his neck softly in thanks while we slowly rock back and forth to some silent music. I finally reach up and kiss him passionately, mussing up his already tousled hair. We kiss for a while, standing wrapped up together in the kitchen before moving to the bedroom. And deep down inside, I know I should tell him about the stalker. But I still can't bring myself to burden him with it.

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><p><em>Grimmjow:<em>

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><p>Ichigo's sleeping. Normally after sex he seems to have almost as much energy as before, but tonight he's completely exhausted, and for good reason. It's dark in the bedroom, but from the dim light filtering in through the blinds I can make out the outline of his bare chest as it rises and falls. I roll over onto my side so I can see him better.<p>

His skin is so pale, especially in the moonlight. I gently trace the curve of his jaw with my fingertips, trailing them down his neck to the contours of his collar bone. I lay my palm flat over one of his pectorals and feel his heart beat steadily beneath it. He's well muscled, in a slim lithe way, but he still seems so fragile to me sometimes. Before him, I'd always gone for taller, more muscular men who were built similarly to me. But the first time I saw Ichigo's almost feminine beauty—I mean, what else could you call it?—I was blown away and knew I had to have him.

And for whatever reason, he wanted me back. I've never really understood it clearly, why he sticks around with someone almost a decade older than him and who is hardly ever around. But I'm secure in our relationship. I love him, he loves me.

But tonight felt a bit different. I wasn't expecting Ichigo to even be here when I got home, and yet every single light was on and the television speakers were blaring. Even the light in the walk in closet in my bedroom was on. And the way Ichigo jumped when I walked in on him working would make you think he'd been electrocuted. I'm not really sure yet what to think about any of it.

I slump back, thinking. I'm not tired, really, even though I should be, so I roll out of bed and pull my boxers back on. I pull the sheets up and over Ichigo before shuffling across the room as quietly as I can. Stopping at the door, I look back at Ichigo's sleeping form. I watch him roll onto his side and mumble something, making me smile. I love catching him when he talks in his sleep.

The air is cool on my skin as I walk down the hall and I find myself wishing I'd thought to at least put on a tee shirt before walking around in the middle of the night. In the kitchen, I flip on a single small light so I can see enough to make myself a mug of warm tea. When it's finished, I flip the lights off and head back down the hall, sipping deeply.

But my feet carry me past the open door of my room and to the office. I stand in the doorway like I had several hours earlier. I remember how Ichigo, for the tiniest moment, looked absolutely terrified. But not at my presence. At least I'm fairly certain of that. But then what the hell has him so on edge? I move into the room, approaching his desk. I've never really gone through his stuff over here before, so I'm not really sure what I'm looking for. But the paper lying on top is the one he was evidently working on when I startled him. I trace my fingertip over the jagged line of ink marring a corner of one of the panels and quietly sip my tea.

The paper shifts slightly and I can see a portion of one of the completed pages laying underneath. I pull one of them out, admiring the detail. But there's something different about this page, about all the pages on his desk, now that I'm looking. Even before I knew Ichigo personally, I followed his work as a mangaka, and he always shows me pages he's particularly proud of, so I know whenever his style changes slightly. These pages before me are all somewhat darker than normal. Their subject matter is the same as always, but the shadows are deeper and the shading darker. And I guess I don't really have any reason to assume it's connected to Ichigo's sudden affinity for wasting electricity, but I do. And it stirs something in the pit of my stomach, something foreign and unknown to me. I decide that I should probably ask Ichigo if everything's okay sometime tomorrow evening—really okay, because I totally saw through his little nod when I asked him earlier. I want him to know that he can tell me anything. And selfish as it may seem, I want him to tell me everything.

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><p><strong>So I know the whole shift in POV thing probably won't be everyone's favorite cup of tea, but I think it adds a valuable depth to the story that you wouldn't otherwise get just reading from Ichigo's thoughts. But otherwise, did this chapter live up to your expectations? This chapter was actually supposed to cover a bit more but was already a tiny bit longer than normal for this story. So instead, I'm planning to just cut the original plan into two chapters, which should help to lengthen the overall story a little. But anyway, I hope to update soon, so please leave me reviews to let me know how you like the POV change or just to comment on the chapter as a whole-let me know how I'm doing :)<strong>

**~Frankie**


	5. Glimpses

**Hey all! Hope this new year finds you happy and healthy and ready for another dose of stalker-ship. Eh, that definitely sounded better in my head. But anyway, I hope this chapter will be worth the update!**

**Oh, and P.S., I really appreciate those who commented on the last chapter, especially regarding the POV change. I'm glad that most of you liked that little plot device and it really has opened up a whole new dimension for me in regards to writing this story. Anyway, that's it from me for now, so please enjoy!**

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><p>Grimmjow wakes me with a sweet kiss to the forehead and a whispered "goodbye" as he leaves for work. I blink a few times and stretch lazily before sitting up. I'm a bit sore from the night before, but I guess Grimmjow let me have it kinda easy. Normally after being teased he likes to get a bit rough, not that I'm complaining.<p>

I don't bother putting my boxers back on as I slide out of bed, choosing to instead just take the tousled sheet with me. I wrap it loosely around my waist and make my way into the hallway, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. The kitchen seems like a long walk, but I finally make it and head straight for the coffee maker. I smile as I see that Grimmjow's left it on for me, half a pot left and still warm. I pull a mug from where it hangs on the rack behind the sink and pour myself a steaming mug. I notice that Grimm's also left out the sugar and creamer for me even though he drinks his coffee black. He really does know me.

I lift the mug to my lips and take a deep swallow, savoring the rich taste. I always go for bargain brands in the coffee isle, out of old habit I guess, but Grimmjow never skimps on the quality of his morning caffeine. I walk around to the bar stood I'd occupied the night before and take a seat. I let myself zone out while sipping.

I think about how well last night went—so much better than circumstances earlier in the day could have predicted. But then again, any night I spend with Grimmjow is generally a good one. As much I want to dwell on the events of last night, I find my thoughts constantly drawn to a certain something nagging at the back of my mind: how the hell am I supposed to tell Grimm about the stalker?

I set my mug down on the edge of the counter. I don't really want to think about it—the whole situation just creeps me out. Even now I can feel panic seeping into the back of my mind and goosebumps rising. Pushing it out of my mind, I decide to just be frank with Grimmjow. He's a grown ass man, he can handle it.

I head back to the bedroom and through to the adjoining bathroom for a long shower. When I finish, I find the drawer in Grimm's dresser that has a few of my things and pull out some fresh boxers and a tee shirt. I locate my jeans from last night and pull them on, my shirt soon to follow. When I go to grab my shoes, however, I realize that I don't have clean socks. So I borrow a pair from Grimmjow.

I grab my jacket, deciding to head home before heading into work. Before I leave I grab the pages I finished last night.

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><p>It's freezing outside. I try to tell myself that that's why my hands are so cold. Why the air in my lungs has suddenly frozen, making it impossible for me to breath. Why my vision has narrowed to the point that I can barely see the stack of letters laying on the floor before me.<p>

I struggle to take a breath, shuddering under the weight of my fear. I fall to my knees and start tearing the letters open. Every envelope is blank, with the exception of my name scrawled across the middle in red ink. They all carry the exact same message, too. Inside each is a single piece of paper with the words "I love you, Ichigo," printed in the middle. Fuck. Fuck. I don't know what to do.

When I got home, I immediately noticed that the door was unlocked. But I figured it was just my own oversight considering how big of a hurry I'd left in yesterday. But whether it was me or not, The letters were waiting for me, neatly stacked just inside the entryway to my apartment. _He was in my home._

Without really having a plan, I jump to my feet. I all but run to my bedroom and grab a duffel bag from the mess that is my closet and stuff anything I can into it. When that's filled, I find a backpack and run to the little corner of my living room that houses my desk and art supplies. I grab my laptop and unceremoniously drop it into the bag, followed by a series of notebooks, sketchpads, and drawing essentials. With everything important packed, I head for the door. I have no idea where I'm going but I know I need to just leave.

I could go to my dad's place, spend some time with him. Karin and Yuzu, my sisters, won't be there though. They're both studying at universities and won't be home for several more weeks. But I also don't want to bring whatever trouble it is that's following me to them. I need to call Grimmjow.

I reach into my pocket for my cell only to realize it's missing. I vaguely wonder if I've lost it until I remember that it's currently laying in a broken heap in a corner of my living room. Fuck. I guess I could always go into work and find a phone there, considering I don't have any change to use a pay phone. Okay, I needed to go into work anyway. Because of my bags, I try to take my car. But when I get to the parking garage, I quickly decide to find an alternative mode of transportation.

My car is covered in roses. The hood, the roof, the windshield, everything. Heaping piles of roses, spilling over to litter the concrete around the wheels. They're even somehow stuck to the fucking windows. I turn right back around head out onto the street to hail a cab.

Finally able to sit down in the backseat of the taxi, I find that I'm drenched in sweat. I'm breathing heavy and I can feel my heart pounding in my fingertips. I try to swallow but my mouth is too dry. When we reach my office building, I pay the cabbie and bolt out with my stuff, not even bothering to wait for change.

It's still pretty early in the morning and the interns aren't in yet, although Rukia thankfully is. I drop my bags just inside the door and march up to her, ignoring her endless lecturing on how I can't answer my cell and that the deadline's coming up.

"Rukia, shut up. Please." I say, catching her off guard. She starts frowning, but before she can resume yelling at me I continue. "I need to borrow your phone."

"What?" She says, caught off guard by my sudden question.

"I need to borrow your phone. Mine's broken. Can I please have you phone for a minute?" I don't know if she senses the desperation in my voice or if she sees it in my eyes, but she relents and pulls the slim device from her pocket. She hands it to me wordlessly, silently regarding me through her dark, narrowed lashes.

I dial Grimmjow's number from memory and drum my fingers along the edge of a table impatiently, taking a few steps away from Rukia while I wait. Finally he picks up, saving me from having to leave a message.

"This is Grimmjow." He says. He doesn't greet me the way he usually does, but it takes me a minute to realize that this would be an unknown number for him. "Uh, hey Grimm, it's me."

"Oh, hey, Ichi. Where are you calling from?"

"Oh, um, this is Rukia's phone. I'm at work."

"I see. So, what's up? Sorry if I woke you up this morning, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye." I laugh nervously, aware that Rukia is probably trying to hear everything.

"No, it's totally fine. That's not the reason I called, though. I was, um, actually I was wondering if I could stay at your place for a few days? Or, you know, for a while?"

Grimmjow's silent for a minute, and I'm almost convinced that he's gonna say no. "Yeah, Ichi, that's fine. You know that's fine. You don't even have to ask."

I breath a silent sigh of relief. "Okay, thanks. And, um, when you get home tonight, can I talk to you about something? I mean, it's not that big of a deal or anything..."

"Ichigo, is everything okay? What's going on?" Fuck. He knows me too well sometimes. Though I guess pretty much anyone would be able to tell I was freaked out about something. "Um, yeah. Nothing's going on." I feel horrible after saying it. It's a blatant lie. Maybe it's not directly to his face, but I suddenly feel like I can't hold everything together for even a few more hours if I can't even be honest with the man I love. So I take it all back.

"Actually, you know what, no, no it's not. Everything's not okay. But I'll—I'll just talk to you tonight, okay?" I feel a tiny bit better just knowing that Grimmjow now knows that something's up. Even if he doesn't know what—I still feel a little bit better.

"Ichigo, you're worrying me. We can definitely talk about it tonight, whatever it is, okay? Just, fuck, I don't know. Just be careful, whatever it is, alright?"

I barely hear him, but manage to mutter a vague "Yeah, okay," before disconnecting the call. One of the advantages of working out of this studio is the enormous wall of windows we have on one side, letting in vast amounts of natural light. The downside, of course, is that it is very easy to see in and out of these windows, forcing privacy into the background.

I'm standing over one of the desks next to the windows, Rukia's phone hanging by my side in my limp fingers. Outside I can see the figure of a man, standing across the street and staring straight up at me, making eye contact. He's dressed in black pants with a stark white jacket, the hood pulled up to shade his face. I can't see his face and I have no idea how, but I know I've seen him somewhere before. As if to confirm my suspicions, the man lifts a hand and waves at me, like we're old friends. My eyes widen in horror as I realize who the man must be and I drop Rukia's phone.

Rukia, in the background, has moved on to other things while I was staring outside, but looks over at the sound of her phone connecting with the floor. "Ichigo?" She says, coming over to where I am, "Is everything okay?" She presses her palms to the desk top and stands on her toes to see where I was staring, but the man is suddenly gone.

I ignore her for a moment and back away from the desk. I want to scream, but clamp both hands over my mouth to prevent myself from doing so. I will not lose control. I will not fall apart. I repeat these things to myself silently, over and over until I can trust myself to speak.

Rukia reaches up and places a hand on my shoulder, obviously concerned for me. "Ichigo, what's wrong? You're pale as a ghost, do you need me to call a doctor?" I shake my head in response.

"No," I say, wincing as I hear my voice crack slightly. "No, but I don't think I'm feeling very well." I take a few steadying breaths before looking at her. She's frowning up at me, concern and worry evident in her eyes and etched into her brow. "Then maybe you should just go home and take the day off." I nod, looking away.

"Yeah. You're probably right." I don't move though, instead staring vacantly through the window. How am I gonna get to Grimm's though? I can't wait around outside for a cab with that guy potentially lurking around out there still. But as if she can read my thoughts, Rukia offers a solution.

"You don't have a fever," she says, resting her palm briefly over my forehead, "but you look like you're about to pass out. Do you want me to give you a ride home?"

I perk up a bit. Problem solved. "Actually, yeah, that'd be great."

* * *

><p>Rukia drops me off at the front of Grimmjow's building and helps me get my bags out. Before slamming the trunk shut, however, she gives me a long hard stare, hands on her hips. I do my best to look back, but it's like she <em>knows.<em> God, I think I'm becoming paranoid.

"Ichigo, if there's something going on, you can talk to me about it."

"Rukia," I say, sighing, "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think there's really anything you can do about it."

"Is it something Grimmjow can help you with? I didn't mean to eavesdrop while you were on the phone and I know you were talking to him about something that's seriously troubling you. I do know you well enough to tell when you're upset by something."

I hesitate, hand clenching around the straps of one of my duffel bags. Should I tell her? She seems so genuinely concerned. I shake my head at the thought; Grimmjow should be the first to know. After all, I've been purposefully hiding it from him even though he's the only one I can really imagine being able to comfort me.

"I hope so, Rukia. But thanks again for the ride, you don't know how much it meant to me."

I turn away, hoping she'll get the hint and leave it be, but no. Rukia always has to have the last word.

"You know, Ichigo, it probably wouldn't hurt for you to work from home for awhile. If you don't even have the courage to admit your fears, how could you possibly face them?"

I whirl around, enraged by just a few softly spoken words. I know I'm angrier than I should be, but I can't help all the rage suddenly bubbling up from my core. I want to fight with her, to scream and holler and argue right there in front of my boyfriend's home. But Rukia is already in her car and buckling her seat belt. She puts it in gear but glances at me in the rearview mirror. I can only scowl and flip her off before she smoothly pulls out of the parking lot.

I face the building again, slinging one bag over my shoulder and firmly grasping the straps of the other before marching through the double doors.

I take the first open elevator to Grimmjow's floor, mumbling under my breath until the doors slide open with a _ding_ and a faint hiss. I drag my bags to the right door and pull my keys out of my pocket, searching for the right one. Just as I'm about to slide the key in, however, the door flies open and I find myself staring, open-mouthed, into Grimmjow's brilliant, worried eyes.

"Grimm..." I say softly, my eyes glued to his.

"You're okay." He says bluntly, as if he wholeheartedly believed something terrible had befallen me in the twenty minutes since I'd talked to him. "Um, yeah," I say nervously, "I'm okay."

He stares at me for another long moment before suddenly gripping me by the front of my shirt and pulling me through the doorway.

"Well then, we need to talk. You're gonna explain everything to me."

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><p><strong>So as always, I have to ask: Did you like it? Was it good? I don't know about you, but I'm definitely glad the action is starting to pick up (at least a little). But please, if you like the story, wanna give me some feedback, or just feel like leaving me some encouragement, you can always drop me a review ;) Plus, more reviews=faster updates. Jus' sayin'.<strong>

**~Frankie**


	6. Secrets

**Please don't hate me! It's been a crazy time in my life, but I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update. But, you know, I'm hoping I can at least sorta make it up to you. With two chapters.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

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><p><em>Grimmjow:<em>

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><p>I'm so fucking angry. I turn my gaze away from Ichigo to the ice swirling around in my glass. I can barely hear his excuses over the anger clouding my senses. I can only think of one thing to say.<p>

"Why didn't you tell me?" I don't even raise my voice that high, but I can see Ichigo visibly flinch from the edge of my vision.

"I tried, Grimmjow. I did, several times. It's not that I didn't want to—" I cut him off. "Yeah? Then what was it?"

He's silent for a few moments, like he's not really sure of the answer. But how could he not be, to completely and deliberately shut me out of his life?

He sits down on the arm of a couch, staring at his hands as they lay limp in his lap. Without looking up, he continues. "I knew I needed to tell you. And honestly, I just kept forgetting to mention it when he first started leaving me roses. As it was escalating, I kept thinking that I needed to tell you, but you were always so busy and I didn't want to bother you with something I didn't feel to be as threatening as it's become."

Ichigo falls silent again, but looks up at me with a look of such pain on his face that I can feel my wall of anger immediately starting to crumble. As the anger diminishes, all I'm left feeling is an overwhelming sense of hurt.

Aren't relationships built on trust? Didn't we promise so long ago that we would always be honest with each other? And although it doesn't come naturally to me, I have always done my absolute best to never hide anything from Ichigo. But he likes to grit his teeth and square his shoulders and take whatever the world has to throw at him, so long as he doesn't burden anyone else in the process. And it's so fucking _like_ him to hide something like this just so he won't bother me with his own troubles.

It's almost like he's afraid to rely on anyone for anything that might come back to bite him. I know him well, but I don't know exactly what happened in his past to make him so hesitant to trust anyone with anything serious. Maybe it has to do with how he lost his mom as a kid, which I know he blames himself for.

I just don't know what I have to do to prove to him that there is nothing in this world that would cause me to abandon him.

I want him to get in my way. I want him to inconvenience me, to fuck my schedule up. I want him to make me chase after him and I want him to ask me to do things for him. I want to go out of my way to please him and make him happy. I want him to tease me and challenge me and push me to my absolute limits before drawing me back in close. I want him to know that he's not alone, and that he doesn't need to act like he is.

"You're right," I say, finally turning to look him in the eyes. He looks back at me, confusion written across his features. "Maybe I was too busy. But you know you can always talk to me, Ichi. We have to be able to trust each other." I walk over to him and grasp his hand. He stands as I set my glass down and draw him in for a firm hug. "You are my priority, Ichigo, you understand that, don't you?"

I lean back and cup his face with my hands. He nods slightly and tightens his arms around my neck. "I love you," I say, staring into his gorgeous brown eyes. God, they're so deep I feel sometimes that I could drown in them if I stare too long.

His eyes soften as he smiles slightly. "I love you too." He leans up and kisses me gently. I kiss him back deeply, letting my body display my love for the redhead. I loosen my arms around his middle to rest on his hips and he slides his hands into my hair. It feels so good to have his hands on me, to have his body pressed against mine.

I tilt my head slightly and slip my tongue out to taste his lips. He parts his lips after a moment and our age-old battle for dominance picks back up. God, I love tasting him.

I let my fingers pick at the hem of his tee shirt and slide underneath. The feel of his skin under my fingertips sends shivers of anticipation up my spine. I run one hand up to the middle of his back while the other teases the skin just above the back of his waistline. Ichigo presses himself closer, our growing erections apparent.

I pull back for a second, both for air and to remove his shirt. We kiss again briefly, fiercely, before he breaks away to remove my shirt. His fingertips fumble over the many buttons so I reach down and just rip the damn thing open, scattering buttons across the wood floor. He seems content to let it hang open on my shoulders and goes back to running his slender fingers through my hair, giving me goosebumps as we kiss again.

We start moving in the vague direction of my bedroom, but it feels like we're going too slow, so I move my hands down to cup his ass and encourage him to wrap his legs around my hips. He obliges, hooking his ankles together behind me without ever breaking the kiss.

When we make it to the bed, I practically fall on him, bracing my weight with my elbows. He wastes no time in trying to take control, flipping me over on my back and grinding himself against me. I groan loudly, gripping his ass tightly through his jeans. I let him grind on me for a while, gritting my teeth and biting my lip at the friction. It feels so good but I want more.

We kiss again, but I use his distraction to my advantage and push him off me, rolling over and practically sitting on him to keep him still. I kiss him deeply but break it off before it can get too heated. I move my lips to his jaw, nipping and suckling until I get down to his collar bone. I give it a sharp bite before running my tongue along the sensitive area. Ichigo mewls loudly under me, his fingertips lightly scratching across my shoulders.

I smile to myself; I love it when he gets vocal. I kiss down to one of his nipples and lick it once before sucking it into my mouth and rolling it around. I let my fingertips play with the other while Ichigo arches under me.

I lick the underside of one of his pectorals before slowly making my way down to his navel, dragging my tongue here and there and dipping it into the small depression. I look up at Ichigo as I near my destination and let my chin graze over his covered erection. He looks down at me, his eyes hooded and lips slightly parted.

"Grimmjow," he says breathlessly, "I love you so fucking much."

I wasn't sure my dick could get any harder, but his words go straight to my crotch and make me groan against the texture of his jeans. "I fucking love you too." I say, quickly undoing the button and dragging the zipper down. I waste no time in removing his jeans and boxers and he helps by lifting his hips and wiggling slightly.

I kiss him again just below the navel and travel slowly down to his throbbing dick. I ignore the member for the moment, instead kissing the inside of his thigh. He moans low in his throat and I can feel him shivering under me as I run my tongue slowly up to his soft sack. I kiss and lick them gently, finally moving onto what I know Ichigo's been waiting for.

I slide my tongue up the underside of his dick and kiss its head. I look up to Ichigo's face, but he's got his head thrown back and both arms draped over his eyes, his mouth making a small _O._ I smile and slowly slide him into my mouth, humming around him. Above me, Ichigo arches slightly and mewls.

I deep throat him slowly, savoring his musky scent and taste before pulling off. I lick the slit before taking him in again, a bit faster this time. The silky feeling of him on my tongue is driving me mad. I suck strongly, hollowing my cheeks and eliciting a low throaty moan from my lover.

I begin to move faster, bobbing my head up and down as Ichigo's hips jerk slightly with each movement. He eventually moves one hand down to my hair, gently resting more than guiding. I move one of own hands up to his lips and dip three fingers into his mouth. He eagerly wets them thoroughly before I pull them out and move them down to his entrance. I circle one fingertip around the puckered opening a few times before sliding it in. He groans as I add a second finger and move them in an out, keeping pace with my tongue and lips.

I scissor my fingers a bit and add the third, curling them to find Ichigo's prostate. Ichigo suddenly cries out sharply and grips my hair a bit tighter. I smile and hum around his dick. It doesn't take much longer to bring him to his peak, and he does moments later, moaning my name loudly and relaxing back onto the bed.

I kiss my way back up his body and pull his arm away from his eyes. His chocolate eyes are darker than ever and hooded with lust. He stares up at me for a long moment before lunging up for a heart-stopping kiss. The remains of my shirt are pushed from my shoulders and I quickly yank my jeans and boxers off.

He pulls me back down on top of him and kisses me passionately. I kiss down to his neck and guide myself to his entrance. I gently bite the soft flesh of his shoulder as I press in slowly. Ichigo arches under me, groaning my name.

"Ahh—ha, ha, Grimmjow! Unnngh.."

I move smoothly until I'm completely buried inside him. And _fuck_. His voice, his body, his heat—everything is so fucking overwhelming. He's so tight, it feels so fucking good to be in him.

I kiss the small wound I've left on his shoulder before moving to brush my lips against his. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and slowly bucks his hips under me, showing me how ready his is for what comes next.

I pull almost all the way out before pushing back in. I keep the pace slow for now, making him whine and squirm under me. I repeat the action a few more times, building delicious tension as our bodies move together. But we need more friction. I pull out slowly again, but almost ram back into Ichigo. He gasps and arches dramatically, pushing our chests against each other, sending shivers down my spine and giving me goosebumps. He moans loudly and digs his fingernails into my back.

"Ichigo." I breath, dragging my tongue up his neck. He opens his beautiful eyes and locks them with mine, exchanging a wealth of emotion in just a glance. I breath his name over and over as I move, my thrusts getting faster and faster.

"Ichigo. Ichigo. Ichigo, unggh—ah, Ichigo."

"Grimm-jow—Grimm... ah-ha, ha, fuck, ungh... Grimmmm."

He wraps his legs around my middle as I pound into him, changing the angle and giving me better access to his sweet spot. I reach between us and slide my hand up to the head of his dick. I press my thumb into the slit before moving to the base and squeezing.

"Oh _fuck_, Grimmjow, ahhh, unn-nnngh..."

I kiss him, effectively cutting off his low moans as I continue my brutal pace. I can already feel myself getting close, the ball of tension in the pit of my stomach ready to explode. Ichigo's getting close too. I squeeze his dick a few more times before I feel him start to tighten around me, his silken walls clamping around my throbbing length and making it hard to hold onto sanity.

It only takes a few more forceful movements before Ichigo comes, loudly moaning my name and a string of profanity. I thrust a few more times as he spasms around me, but I can't hang on any longer. I bury myself in him and come hard, shuddering as I fill him with warmth. Stars explode behind my closed eyelids and the world spins around me as I growl out Ichigo's name. I ride out the waves of pleasure before collapsing next to Ichigo, still inside him.

He kisses my neck sweetly before I push myself up enough to pull out. I crawl further onto the bed, pulling Ichigo willingly behind me, and pull the covers up over us. He tosses an arm across my chest and rests his head on my shoulder, a content smile playing over his lips.

I let my thumb travel in lazy circles over the smooth skin of Ichigo's shoulder, but my mind is still not totally at ease.

"Ichigo, I think tomorrow we should go to the police." I hold my breath after saying it, hoping I won't push him away again. I don't wanna make him do anything he doesn't want to, but I also want him to be safe. And I know that I will do whatever it takes to make that happen, even if he resents me for it.

But Ichigo surprises me. He doesn't even move a muscle, only opening his eyes and glancing up at me. "Mmkay," he says. "I don't know who the bastard is, though, so I'm not sure they'll be able to do anything, but we can try."

I consider that for a second. "Yeah, I guess. But I still wanna try." Ichigo doesn't answer me, but only hums to himself and closes his eyes again. I guess it must just be a relief for him to not have to shoulder the worry himself anymore. Within a few minutes he falls asleep.

I wish I had it so easy too, but my mind is still kind of a mess. I still can't believe that I didn't see the stress and worry sooner, that I didn't call him on his bullshit. But I guess it doesn't matter so much anymore. All we need to focus on now is getting to the bottom of it.

It takes several more minutes before I can fall asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Ichigo:<em>

* * *

><p>"What the hell do you mean you can't do anything?"<p>

I raise a hand to partially shield my face from the detective before us. Grimmjow is doing a fantastic job of making an ass out of himself today. And though outwardly the detective before us seems nonplussed, he's becoming increasingly unhelpful.

"Well without even a name, there's nothing for us to move forward with. This department doesn't have the time to investigate something so woefully...unavailing."

The detective's name is Uryu Ishida. He's probably somewhere around my age and also rather arrogant. He still seems perfectly composed, despite Grimmjow's howling rage. Although admittedly, I'm also starting to get mad.

"What do you mean unavailing?" I ask, shifting in my chair. I still don't want to be rude, but this prick is testing my thin patience.

"I simply mean that we would have no real starting point. An investigation would be too costly and time consuming. We have several other cases right now that require our full attention and breadth of resources. If you had more evidence, then maybe we would be able to help you."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

Ishida sighs and leans forward, resting his chin on interlaced fingers and a slight impatient smile on his thin face. He looks up at me through his glasses, regarding me before speaking. "There's not a lot you can do, really. My best advice would be to hire a private investigator to help figure out the identity of your admirer. Once the investigator has enough evidence, he can turn it over to us, and we'll then go forward with the case."

I sigh. It's no different from what I'd expected, but still. I'd been hoping for, well, more hopeful news. But I'll take what I can get.

Grimmjow's about to speak again, but I quiet him by placing my hand on his arm. "Is there anyone you'd recommend?"

Finally, Ishida smiles slightly. He leans back and pulls a drawer open before plucking a card out and handing it to me. "This man is one of the best private investigators I've worked with. If anyone can find anything on your so-called stalker, it'll be him."

I scowl at Uryu. I can tell he doubts the whole thing and I wonder if I should have brought some of the letters. I turn the card over in my hand. One side is blank, the other has only a name and a phone number stamped in the middle.

"Thank you, detective." He stands and offers his hand. I shake it, but Grimmjow is a bit more reluctant. He refuses to acknowledge Ishida again, turning and leaving in a huff and practically dragging me behind him.

His bad mood follows us into the car. We just sit silently in the parking lot for a few minutes, but Grimmjow finally holds his hand out for the card.

"Shinji Hirako." He says. He looks at it doubtfully before flicking it down into the cupholders between our seats. "I doubt this guy's gonna be more help the the police."

I frown. Wasn't Grimmjow the one who wanted to go to the cops in the first place?

"What do you mean?"

Grimmjow half shrugs. "There just isn't a lot to go on."

"What are you talking about? Uryu said we just needed to find a name, but there's plenty of other evidence..."

Grimmjow gives me a strange look from the corner of his eye. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. No. He's doubting me.

"No, Grimmjow. Don't even go there."

He turns in his seat and faces me, the look on his face is one of sympathy mixed with something else I can't quite place. He searches for the right words, obviously trying to be sensitive.

"Ichi, I'm not sayin' I don't believe you, but is there any way that you're just, I don't know, maybe taking it too seriously?"

I look at him incredulously. Is he serious?

"I mean, maybe he's just a secret admirer or something. An infatuated fan maybe. He'll probably go away after a few more days."

I continue staring at him until he grows uncomfortable and starts to fidget. It's hard to even process the fact that he doesn't believe me. I can feel the anger growing, bubbling up in my chest until it's threatening to explode out of me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Grimmjow's eyes widen at my raised voice. I fix him with a hard stare before I continue. "I mean, come on. We've been together for almost a year. Do you really think I'd lie about something like this?"

He raises his hands like he's trying to keep the peace. "Ichigo, I didn't say you were lyin'. Just that you might be blowin' this out of proportion-"

"How fucking dare you!" I'm turned in my chair now too, one arm braced on the door behind me and the other on the armrest, like I'm gonna fall through the bottom of the car any second. Grimmjow slides a hand onto my knee, trying to calm me, but I jerk it away. I don't want to be anywhere near him right now. He tries to say something, but I cut him off.

"Jesus, Grimmjow! How am I blowing this out of proportion, huh? He's been leaving me letters, calling me, _following me, _for God's sake. All I wanted was to stay at your place until it all settled down, but no, you wanted to go to the police. And when they told you exactly the same thing that I did, that they wouldn't be able to help, you suddenly blame me and tell me that _I'm_ the one blowing this out of proportion? No, fuck that."

Now Grimmjow looks angry. For a second, I regret yelling at him. He can be ferociously terrifying when he wants to be.

"I never said I blamed you, Ichigo. Don't even try to put words in my mouth, 'cause that ain't fuckin' fair."

"Oh, _sorry._ I guess I was overreacting about that too." I turn away and stare purposefully out the window. "So much for trusting each other." I mutter. I say it quietly, but Grimmjow hears it. In the window's reflection, I see him shake his head.

He doesn't look at me again as he starts the car and tears out of the parking lot.

We're almost halfway home when he speaks again.

"Ichigo, stop pouting. You know I wasn't tryin' to upset you, I was just pointing out the possibility that-"

"That I'm overreacting. Yeah, I got that part." I'm turned away facing the window, with my arms crossed. I don't look at him, but I hear him sigh harshly and I can picture him rolling his eyes at me.

"Well if you would stop bein' so goddamn hostile for a second then maybe we could figure this out!"

I twist in my chair and scowl at him. "Figure out what. That you don't trust me enough to believe me? That you don't care enough to take it seriously?"

He tosses a dirty look at me. "Oh stop bein' so dramatic, would ya? I'm just sayin' that if there was some proof..."

God. Why hadn't I thought about it earlier? There is proof, why not show it to him?

"Turn up here." I tell him. Grimmjow gives me a weird look. "No. That'll take me in the total opposite direction of my apartment."

"That's because we're going to my apartment, not yours."

"Why?"

"Because you want proof. So I'm gonna give you proof, okay?"

* * *

><p>My apartment is just the way I'd left it. Just inside and a bit to the left of the door is a mess of crumpled letters and envelopes. The original letter is still on the kitchen counter, untouched. In the corner of the living room there's a small dent in the wall. On the carpet beneath it, my old phone lays chipped, cracked and broken.<p>

Grimmjow examines everything carefully. He knees down next to the letters and reads each one. He reads the one in the kitchen too, and crumples it slightly because he's angry again. He even checks out my phone before going into my bedroom and seeing the mess I'd left behind after my frenzied escape.

I'm sitting on the couch in the living room, resting my forehead against my interlaced fingers. All the anger has drained from my body, and I fell like it took all my energy with it. Grimmjow finally comes over to me, dropping onto the couch next to me with a weary sigh. He mimics my position, bending over and resting his elbows on his knees.

I glance at him and find him giving me a careful stare. I wait for him to speak first.

"I'm sorry, Ichi. I shouldn't have doubted you."

I shrug, but lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have gotten so angry." He reaches over and slides one of his hands in between mine, squeezing in a reassuring way. Eventually, he suggests we go home and call the private detective. I only nod, standing up with him.

He holds my hand as we walk back to the car, and never lets it go the entire way home.

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><p><strong>So, how'd you like it? This chapter-for whatever reason-was particularly difficult to write. Maybe it's just because I left it alone for so long that it was hard to get back into this world, but whatever. It's done now, yay! So let me know what you think of it, reviews are life!<strong>

**~Frankie**


	7. Help

**So here's the second chapter of the double upload. Sorry again that it took me so long! Oh, and just to change things up a bit, I decided to do this chapter from Shinji's point of view.**

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><p><em>Shinji:<em>

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><p>Christ, this kid's got one hell of a story.<p>

I got the call late afternoon. They said Uryu sent them. Prick.

But the place I'm at now is nice. The taller guy is some kind of corporate manager or something, and the younger kid is a mangaka. Both are well-paying professions. I can expect to get a decent take away from this. Really, that fact alone is the only reason I even considered the case.

I don't like cases involving stalkers. They're messy and complicated and not easily solved. And even when they are, the stalker usual gets out after a minimal sentence and the whole process has the potential to start over again.

"So when was the first time he actually spoke to ya?" I ask. I've already heard the whole story from the beginning, but there's a few details I wanna clarify.

The kid—Ichigo—rubs the back of his neck. I can tell he's pretty worn out. Dark circles under his eyes, tension coiled in his shoulders, he jumps at every little thing. But depending on how long it takes me to solve this, it could get way worse.

"Uh, after I opened the first letter. He called literally seconds after, asking if I'd opened it yet. I don't really remember what else he said—something about trying to protect me maybe?-before I yelled at him to leave me alone and chucked my phone at the wall."

I run one of my fingernails under another to remove a miniscule piece of dirt. Doing tiny things like that help me concentrate. Weird, I know, but it helps.

"What did ya do then?" I ask, standing. So far, we'd been sitting in the big guy's—Grimmjow's-ridiculous dining room. Seriously. Who needs a table with seating for ten? But I stand and make my way out into the living room, where the couches and television set are. There's a brief pause, but Ichigo and Grimmjow follow me out.

"Um, I packed a bag and went to Grimmjow's for the night. It kinda freaked me out."

I nod absently. "I can see why it would."

I walk across the room to the large picture window. I can feel them staring at me, wondering what the hell I'm doing. The blinds are down, but I spread them apart and peek through. There are no buildings directly across from the apartment on this side. Just a rather nice view of downtown Karakura. I step away from the windows and turn to face Ichigo and Grimmjow. They're standing close together, and Grimmjow has his arm around Ichigo's shoulders. They're both wearing slightly confused looks. I consider filling them in, but decide to finish what I started first.

I walk across the room quickly. I wanna get outta here soon so I can make a quick stop by Ichigo's place before calling it a day. I head to the bedroom and check out that window before also stopping in the office. It only takes me a few minutes to make a full circuit through the flat.

Back in the living room, I take a seat on the armrest of one of the couches. Ichigo and Grimmjow sit on the adjacent couch.

"So, from what ya told me," I begin, "I can surmise that the stalker has some way of knowing what goes on in yer apartment. This could either be due to some kind of video or listening device, or it could be that he has a direct line of sight into yer apartment."

I let that sink in for a moment. "How do you know that?" Grimmjow asks.

"Well," I say, "I seriously doubt the guy has good enough timing to know exactly when Ichigo would open that first letter. In my opinion, he probably has an apartment across from ya, or has some other way of seeing through yer windows. Which is why I checked here."

They stare at me for a second. "Ya have nothin' to worry about, though. Yer too high up here and there's no buildings around that would give a direct line of sight into any of these rooms."

Ichigo visibly relaxes. That' good. Grimmjow puts a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, squeezing gently. I decide that now's probably as good a time as any to get outta here.

I stand and offer my hand out. Ichigo stands and shakes first, then Grimmjow.

"Thanks again for coming over, Mr. Hirako," Grimmjow says. "Call me Shinji," I say, making my way to the door. Grimmjow follows to let me out, but Ichigo goes back to the couch.

"Oh!" I say, snapping my fingers and turning back to Ichigo. "Can I have a key to yer place? I wanna head over there in tha mornin' and take a peek around, see what I can find out."

Ichigo frowns. "Uh, sure. But I don't want you to feel rushed or anything. I mean, Grimmjow and I obviously would like this to be finished as quickly as possible, but I don't want you to feel like this has to be figured out tomorrow, either."

I nod at the sentiment. Nice kid. "I understand. But I like doing things my way, and I think it would be better to look around before anyone has the chance to mess with things there. Just so I get a more complete feel of what exactly is goin' on."

Ichigo nods and walks to the bedroom. He comes out a minute later with a ring full of different keys. He slowly winds one off and hands it to me.

"Thanks again, Mr... uh, Shinji." He gives me a small smile and I just nod back. I turn around and head back to the door, where Grimmjow's still waiting for me.

He opens the door and lets me out, but doesn't shut it behind me. I turn one last time. He's giving me a curious look, like he's concerned or something but there's also unmistakable steel in his eyes.

"I know that Ichigo doesn't want to pressure you, but I also have to think about his well being. I want you to work as hard as you have to to get this bastard, understand? Spare no expense. But also know that I don't appreciate being jerked around. If you're not doin' your job, then we'll find someone else who will."

I stare at him for long moment before nodding. "I know ya care about him, Grimmjow, and that ya want what's best for 'im. But ya don't need ta worry about things on my end. I don't fuck around with any of my cases. Especially not when the stakes are high."

He gives me a nod back. "Good. I'll be expecting to hear from you when you find somethin'."

"Will do."

Grimmjow says a final goodnight before he finally shuts the door. I head to the elevators and make the uncomfortable journey downstairs and to the parking garage where my motorcycle is waiting for me.

* * *

><p>Ichigo's place is about twenty minutes away from mine, although I push the speed limit a bit. Before I go into the building, I stop by the car park. Ichigo's car is easily identifiable. He'd told me about it bein' covered in roses, and there's still some scattered around, but many of them must have either been taken by others or blown away by the wind. I check closely, but it seems nothing new has been left for him.<p>

Just after entering the building, I stop and check his mail. Nothing of importance there either. I skip the elevator and take the stairs to his floor. I don't like elevators really. Too claustrophobic. So if it's possible, I take the stairs.

Ichigo's only a few floors up. I let myself in and start snooping.

The first thing I notice is the letters scattered on the floor. I stoop down and pick through them, but there's nothing really important here. I take one of them though and fold it, tucking it inside my vest. Next I seek out the letter he left on the countertop.

There's a difference between this letter and the ones on the floor. This one has more time put into it. A longer message handwritten in the middle, printed on what seems to be parchment. The others were only types—although in red ink—and on plain paper. There's no return address on any of them.

I leave this letter on the counter and start examining the windows here like back at Grimmjow's. But unlike the blue haired man's place, this apartment complex has two different wings to it, giving the building itself a kind of crescent shape. Directly across from both the bedroom and living room windows is the second tower of apartments. The living room window, which is not covered by its shades, would give ample viewing access to Ichigo's kitchen, where he opened the letter.

I stand before the window, thoughtful. While it is still possible for the place to be bugged, I don't think that's the case. To me, this whole thing seems to be moving pretty fast. I doubt the stalker would have had either the time or the foresight to do something so sophisticated.

So then which of the apartments across from this window does the stalker have access to?

I glance at my watch. It's only noon.

I leave the apartment, making sure to lock and deadbolt the door behind me. Ichigo said some of the letters were waiting for him insides the flat, indicating that either the stalker has a way into the place, or that Ichigo left the door open and the stalker got lucky. I make a mental note to come back every few days and see if anything's been disturbed.

In the lobby of the building, I stop by the front desk. The attendant here is young and tough looking, with dark skin and hair and a serious face. I smile at him. He stares blankly back at me. I sigh; he will obviously not be charmed into helping me.

"Hello, I'm interested in renting here." I'm about to continue, but the stoic stone-faced man surprises me by speaking without much prompting.

"Then you should talk to the manager of the building."

I pull a small notebook out of my pocket. "And that would be?"

"Kisuke Urahara." I jot the name down and return the notebook to the inside of my vest. The attendant seems to be a man of few words. But maybe I can get a few more out of him.

"Well, I've just toured the apartment of a friend, and while I liked it, I was hoping ta find a vacancy on the other side of tha building. Do ya know of any?"

The man quirks an eyebrow. "Like I said, you should speak to the manager."

I wave my hand back and forth. "Yes yes, but I don't wanna waste my time if there's no vacancies, ya know? So come on, help me out. Any open flats?"

The man considers me for a moment before seeming to think about it. "One that I know of, maybe a few others."

"I see. And, uh, what about the neighbors. Know anything 'bout them?"

"Who's flat did you say you toured?"

I chuckle lightly. Clearly this man takes his job very seriously. "Ichigo Kurosaki." It can't hurt to mention his name here. I'm not too worried about this guy being the stalker.

But at the mention of Ichigo's name, the man's face lights up. "Oh, Ichigo. Yeah he's a good guy. Always stops to talk to me on his way in or out."

He's silent for a few seconds, but I wait to see if he'll continue, which he does. "Uh, I don't really know many people from the other side, but there's been a few complaints in the past."

I lean on the counter, intrigued. "Really? Can ya tell me a bit more?"

The man—Sado, as his name tag reads—leans in a bit closer to me too. "There's not a lot, really, just some guy whose been too loud at weird times of the day or night. Some of his neighbors complained, but the guy moved out pretty soon after. Nothing special."

"I see. Is there any way you can tell me which apartment number this guy lived in?"

Sado looks up at me through the thick hair covering his eyes. "This isn't really about you living here, is it?"

I smirk and shake my head. "Nah. It's about your boy Ichigo. Someone seems to like him a bit too much."

Sado's eyes, from what I can see of them, widen. "Oh. Well, I'd like to help if I can. The apartment is number 423. Been vacant since he was evicted."

I can't believe I'm getting this information so easily. Hopefully, this is some kinda omen that the rest of the case will be just as easy.

I lean further over the counter. "Well in the interest of helping Ichigo out, you wouldn't happen to have a key to that apartment, would you?"

Now Sado looks a bit uncomfortable. I knew I was pushing a bit too hard. "Sorry, but I've already said more than I should have. You understand?"

"Of course. I appreciate all your help."

I push myself off the counter and head outside. I hop on my bike and head home, with plans to return late tonight.

* * *

><p>There's a new attendant at the front desk. Good. I didn't wanna have to try and sneak past Sado.<p>

I walk in, casual but confidant. I don't wanna attract attention now. But the woman behind the counter doesn't even look up at me. Some attendant.

I head right instead of left, heading to the opposite side of the building and bound up the stairs until I reach the fourth floor. Same floor as Ichigo's apartment. I walk slowly down the hallway, looking for 423 while slowly pulling on a pair of leather gloves. I wanna check the place out, but I don't wanna leave traces.

I finally find it. It's on the right side of the hallway for it's windows to face Ichigo's, so that has to be a good sign. I glance around before dropping to my knees and pulling a slim case from my vest pocket. Inside are various slim metal tools. I pull two out and go to work on the lock.

Within seconds, I've got the door unlocked. I let it swing open and take a step inside. It looks pretty normal. It looks a lot like Ichigo's place, but with none of the personal touches. But something seems off. None of the lights are on, but in the kitchen, I see that the coffee maker is still programed to make coffee every morning. I pull the fridge open next. More anomalies. There's a half full carton of spoiled milk and a few bottles of water inside. What the hell?

Maybe this guy was only recently evicted? I snoop a bit more. The counters are cleared, as is the coffee table. The pillows on the couch are the same that come with the furnishings, and not disturbed. Next, I head to the bedroom.

What. The actual. Fuck.

I let the door swing easily open. The room is dark, but I'm gradually able to make it all out.

The walls are covered with pictures of Ichigo. Absolutely plastered, floor to ceiling. I walk around starting counter-clockwise from the door, looking at everything. The pictures don't seem to be very recent, either, at least not all of them. Some show him walking into work, some show him through a window, bent over a table hard at work on something. One shows him waiting in his car at a stoplight. A few are of him in his apartment.

I'm careful as I walk around the room. There's flowers—roses—scattered here and there over the carpet. On a small table near one of the windows lays two different sets of binoculars. The bed itself is also completely covered in photos.

I consider that for a moment. Until this point, I'd been assuming the guy still lived here as a squatter, despite the eviction. But considering the mess on the bed, it would be impossible for him to sleep here. I make a note to check the flat for other places the guy could be sleeping.

I try to finish my sweep of the room but stop at a specific point on one of the walls. Here, all the pictures of Ichigo include Grimmjow. Only in most of the photos, Grimmjow's face has been either scratched out, x-ed out with a sharpie, or his head simply torn off. Holy shit.

I exhale deeply and decide to leave the room. I make sure to shut the door behind me, as I'd found it. A guy as meticulous as this would notice such a simple error. I wander around the rest of the apartment, but I don't find anything new. I also don't find any place where the guy could sleep.

I head to the door and leave, closing and locking the door behind me. I feel kinda unsettled after being in there. I shake my head and pull my gloves off. I need to find out who used to live there.

I take the stairs slowly, trying to piece together what I know. So Ichigo's been bein' followed maybe as long as a year. Only recently, something changed. The stalker is no longer okay with just watching. He contacts Ichigo through roses, letters, and calls. He lets himself be seen by Ichigo.

This brings up a couple of questions in my mind: How did the stalker know the apartment across from Ichigo was vacant? What happened to trigger the progression of his habits? Why was he stalking Ichigo in the first place and what triggered the obsession? I shake my head again.

The lobby is mostly clear when I get to the bottom of the stairs. I peek around the corner, watching the desk attendant and waiting for my chance. Five minutes later, she gets up to take a bathroom break.

I quickly walk to the desk and slide behind it. I scan all the drawers before finding one labeled "residents." I pull the drawer open and find a list of tenants. The list is a few months old, I think, because it's got a name listed under 423. Ikkaku Madarame. In the same drawer is a list of forwarding addresses, so I snag this Madarame guy's and put everything away. I slip back into the main lobby just as the desk clerk comes back. I breath a sigh of relief and head outside to where my motorcycle is parked.

I consider calling Grimmjow to tell him what I found, but ultimately decide against it. All I've done is raise more questions. I don't want to put more strain on either of them, especially not Ichigo. I'll call them after I talk to the Madarame guy, if I find out anything relevant.

I pull my helmet on start my bike up. Ikkaku Madarame's address puts him two cities over. It'll be a long drive.

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><p><strong>Did you like it? Let me know what you think of the POV shift and hearing things from Shinji. As always, reviews would be much appreciated!<strong>

**~Frankie**


	8. Information

****Soo. Sorry about, you know, dropping off the planet for the last (almost) three months. This last quarter at school has really been a bitch and destroyed all my hopes of trying to update regularly. But anyways, just one more week and I'm home free! So I hope you enjoy this next chapter!****

****Also, I really want to thank everyone who's taken the time to review this story so far. I really appreciate hearing your opinions and suggestions, and it means a lot that you've stuck with me this far. But enough of the sappy stuff, onwards!****

****Wait wait wait! One last thing! Reading back through this story a few times, I noticed that there was more profanity than usual, so, sorry about that in advance! _Now_ let's keep going!****

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><p><em>Grimmjow:<em>

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><p>He looks so tired. I can't understand why, though. He sleeps next to me every night, but every day the shadows under his eyes get deeper and darker. Right now he's huddled over one of his manga panels, trying to make the composition work. I don't think he's even noticed that I'm here, watching him.<p>

I glance at my watch. It's almost seven, and Shinji said he'd be here soon to discuss what he's found so far in his investigation. It's only been a week since he took our case, but on the phone earlier today, he said he might have a promising lead.

Right on time, the doorbell rings. Ichigo's head flies up, and he smiles at me vaguely. "Shinji?" He asks, but something flashes across his face. He glances at his desk and then back to me, biting his lip. I nod and push myself away from the door frame. "Yeah. You can keep working if you want, though. I can let you know if he has anything good later."

Ichigo glances at his work again, then back to me. "You sure?" I nod again and he smiles again, a small amount of relief flashing across his face before turning back to his desk and eagerly getting back to work. With one last look, I turn away and head to answer the door.

I barely get the door open before Shinji's pushing his way in. "About fuckin' time," he says, walking straight in to the living room and collapsing on a couch. I follow and sit in the armchair next to him. He glances at me through his long bangs, which have fallen over his eyes.

I wait for him to speak, to tell me what he has, but the silence stretches on into awkwardness. "So... do you have something?" I ask tentatively. Shinji's eyes brighten and he gives me a wide smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

I shake my head. I know he's supposed to be good, but I can't help thinking he's sort of a weirdo.

He's got a backpack on, but finally takes it off, reaching inside to pull out a file folder. He lays it on the coffee table and flips it open. He looks like he's about to speak, but pauses. "Isn't Ichigo joining us?" I shake my head. "No, he's working on some stuff right now. I offered to catch him up on everything later."

Shinji nods, as if this is exactly what he'd expect and begins.

"So the first time we talked" he says, pulling out some photos, "I mentioned that Ichigo's stalker probably had some way of directly observing him in his apartment."

I nod, remembering.

"Well, the day after that, I went over to his place and looked around. Nothing odd at his place, so I checked out the apartments that were across from his and would be able to see in." Shinji stops and hands me a few pictures. I look at them carefully. One is of Ichigo walking into work, another is of him sitting at his kitchen table and is obviously taken through a window. I frown.

"What are these?"

Shinji hands me another photo, and this one has me in it too. Ichigo and I are crossing the street, heading into a movie theater He's got his arm looped through mine and we're both laughing at something. It's snowing, and we're both bundled up in winter jackets and scarves. The only odd thing is that my face has been violently X-ed out. Dread starts to creep into my chest. I glance up at Shinji, who's got a similar look on his face.

"That's not even the worst of them. I found a flat across from Ichigo's where he must've been observing him for quite a while. There's one room just plastered in pictures like these."

I set the picture down and take a deep breath.

"Okay. We knew he'd been following Ichigo and taking pictures. What else do you know?"

Shinji runs a hand through his fine hair. "Well, I found the name of the guy who had that flat rented out last. Guy's name was Ikkaku Madarame. He lives a few cities over."

"Is it him?" I ask, giving Shinji a hard stare. He pauses, but shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. The fact that you're face was scratched out in all the photos suggests that his interest in Ichigo is more romantic than anything else. That he's jealous of you for your relationship with Ichigo. This Madarame guy had a boyfriend, so I don't really think it's him. And he lives too far away now to effectively follow Ichigo."

I nod absently. "So then what's his involvement with this thing?"

Shinji pulls out single sheet of paper from his file and hands it to me. "I told him that someone had been using his last apartment as a sort of base to harass someone. He seemed sympathetic, but didn't really have any names to give me. He had never even met Ichigo, despite having lived in the same building as him for almost a year. So then I asked him to give me the names of everyone who had visited him while he was a resident there, and another list of everyone who knew about his move. I then compared them, removing names that didn't appear on both lists."

I examine the sheet he'd given me. There's about seven or eight names on it, with four of them already crossed off.

"And this is the result? It's not very long."

Shinji shrugs. "Eh. He's not a very pleasant guy. Very rude."

"And you think one of these people is Ichi's stalker?"

"Well I obviously can't say for sure, but I'm pretty confident. Yeah."

"Why're some of them crossed off?"

Shinji sighed. "Well, one of those guys is Yumichika. He's Ikkaku's boyfriend, so I didn't really think there was a reason to suspect him. The other three are all females."

I stared at the list for a few moments before looking up at Shinji, confused. "So? Ichigo doesn't always exactly throw off a _gay_ vibe. It could be a chick."

Shinji just stares at me for a few seconds before cracking a sort of lopsided grin. It's the kind of smile you give someone who's just said something stupid, someone who hasn't understood the joke yet.

"Well unless it's a chick with a really deep and scratchy voice," Shinji says, "I think it's gotta be a dude who called him on the phone. And there's no reason for me to suspect an accomplice, therefore I'm betting on a male stalker."

I shoot him a nasty look. I feel like he's patronizing me. I hate being looked down on. It's not my fucking fault I'm not some hot shot private detective. But I try to force my anger to the side. I've seen how this has affected Ichigo, how it's still affecting him. I don't want to offend Shinji or do anything else that might fuck up Ichi's chance to finally find peace. So I put my indignation on the back burner. For now.

Then a thought hits me. "What about the staff and maintenance crew at the apartment complex? Couldn't one of them be the stalker?"

Shinji shrugs. "I guess, but I really don't think so. I don't see a reason for someone who works there to use one of the rooms across from Ichigo when they would have direct access to his apartment. Also, I checked in with the manager of the place, Urahara. He's a really good guy, Urahara. But I told him about the situation, and he kindly provided me with the background checks he'd run on all the staff when they'd been hired. The guy's gotta be like an ex-cop or something. But I read through everything, and I didn't see anything suspicious. My guess is that the guy we're looking for probably has a history of either criminal activity—low level stuff—or psychological problems. None of the employees had anything like that."

Okay, I think. That makes sense. I look down at the paper again. Four names. So if it's one of these assholes, surely it can't take too long for Shinji to figure out which one it is.

"Okay then. So have you looked into any of these guys?" I ask, looking back up at him. He's busy flipping through his file again, and pulls out another photograph. He hands it to me, already explaining who he is.

"This is suspect number one. Not that he's the primary suspect or anything, just that he happened to be first on the list, alphabetical and all."

I stare at the photo. It's of a young man from the chest up, dressed in a black tee shirt with long-ish blond hair that fell over one side of his face. "Izuru Kira," Shinji says, handing me another picture of the man. This one is full body, showing this Izuru guy crossing a street with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"I've only been monitoring his movements for a day or so, but I'm already starting to think he doesn't really have any involvement. Yeah, he lives in Karakura, but his movements go almost opposite of Ichigo's. He works on the other side of town. He lives in a nice house in a nice neighborhood over in suburbia with a few roommates. He's in a band—that's actually sorta popular—and travels around the countryside every few weeks."

Shinji sighs and runs a hand through his hair again. "I don't know, it just doesn't sit right. So imma follow him for one more day, maybe question him a bit, but probably leave it at that and move onto the next guy."

I nod. With that information, I can only draw the same conclusions. I look back to the list of names and identify the next one. "Kaien Shiba," I say, mostly to myself. When I look up, Shinji's already offering me a photo. I take it from him, exchanging it for the ones of Izuru Kira. This new guy's got a gray tattoo across the bridge of his nose and left side of his face. Just underneath is another tattoo, 69. Three parallel scars run down the right side of his face.

I snort, amused at his stupid tattoos. "This is Kaien Shiba? Looks like a total pussy." I glance up at Shinji, who has that stupid fucking half-smirk on his face again. "What?" I snap, amusement gone.

"That ain't Shiba. Tha's suspect number four, Shuhei Hisagi. I haven't tracked down suspects two and three yet, and I don't even got pictures of them."

I shoot Shinji and irritated, incredulous look. "What?" He says, holding his hands up defensively. "No one ever said I had to go through this in numerical order."

I sigh heavily. "Whatever. So what's this guy's deal?"

"I don't know yet, honestly. He was pretty easy to find, but I haven't really had the chance to establish a pattern of behavior for him like I did with Izuru."

A passing thought strikes me. Shinji's so nonchalant about all of this stuff. But he's basically doing the same thing as the stalker. Following people around, taking their picture, digging into their past—all without them knowing about it. I glance up and give him a hard stare, but he isn't paying me any attention. Instead he's reorganizing his folder, putting everything back in place. I shake my head to clear the unpleasant thought. Shinji is only doing his job, I tell myself. He's not the same. He's not hurting anyone; he's helping us.

I hand over the picture and the list of names. "So what comes next?" I ask. Shinji accepts what I hand him and tucks it carefully into the folder before answering. "Next, I figure out as much as I can about these four guys. Well, three, considering I'm pretty sure I can rule the first one out."

"That's it?" I ask, kind of disappointed. Shinji frowns and gives me a strange look. "Well, yeah. What did you think was gonna happen? This stuff takes time. Resources. Probing. If you want answers in this line of work, you gotta work for 'em, you know? It takes patience and lots of it, but the reward is really fucking worth it."

I think about that for a minute, wondering what kinds of things Shinji's had to investigate over the years. The slim blonde finishes organizing his stuff and slides the folder back into his backpack.

"Hey Shinji," I say after a moment. He doesn't even pause what he's doing to look up at me. "Yeah?"

"What kind of cases have you worked in the past?"

Now he stops what he's doing and looks at me, slightly suspicious. "Why?" I shrug. "Dunno. Just curious, really." He regards me quietly for a moments before answering. "Nothin' so interesting as this, for a while at least. Mostly it's been petty theft, spousal investigation, small stuff like that. Every now and then, I get an embezzlement case that's a bit more interestin'. Nothing real big since I left the force, though."

I frown, caught off guard. "The force? Like the police force?" He gives me a weird look. "Well, yeah. Didn't that Ishida bastard tell you how we knew each other?" I shake my head, but I'm starting to get kind of an idea.

"Well, long story short, we used ta be partners, right outta the academy. We worked with each other all right for a few years, but then we totally fucked up on a case. It was a high-profile kidnapping. We'd been havin' issues with each other for a while and when the shit hit the fan, he didn't exactly have my back. He didn't blame it on me, but when it came down to it, someone had to take responsibility for what happened. I lost my job, he kept his. Every now and then, he sends people my way, just to remind me that he's superior. Got a promotion recently too, I've heard."

Shinji drifts off into silence, gaze focused on the past. He shakes his head gently, snorting before picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He looks ready to leave, but I stop him.

"Wait!" I say putting a hand out to stop him from rising. "What happened, with the kidnapping? What went wrong?" For a second I almost regretted it. His face turns all bitter and he huffs like an angry kid. But someone important to me is in trouble, and I want to make sure the man I'd hired would be up to any challenge that got thrown our way.

"Four years into my career, this little girl gets kidnapped, right from a playground. The parents go to the police, obviously. There's a ransom demand and all—the kidnappers had it planned, they'd picked the kid of a wealthy and influential business man. Anyway, the parents went behind our backs and gave into the ransom, but the kidnappers never let the girl go."

Shinji ducks his head and takes a deep, shaky breath. "We could have handled it better, but if the parents had just worked with us and listened, we might have been able to find her sooner. We eventually pieced enough together and found her, chained to a wall in the basement of some run down apartment complex scheduled to be demolished the next day. She'd been there alone, no food or water, for four fuckin' days. She survived, but barely. And the whole thing was extremely public, especially after the guys got the money."

We're quiet for a while after that. Shinji looks like he's reliving everything. I tolerate the silence for a few more moments, but eventually, I just have to ask. "So did you, uh, ever catch the guys?"

Shinji tosses me an annoyed look. "Don't be stupid. Of course I did. But that came after my "resignation." It was the first case I completed as a private investigator, of my own accord, mind you. Working on the force was nice, but there's a certain freedom associated with working slightly outside the law. Like not waiting for search warrants and stuff. But yeah, I found 'em. Gave 'em a bloody pounding too, before turning 'em back over to the cops."

Shinji, apparently tired of walking down memory lane, stands to leave. I don't bother accompanying him; he knows the way out well enough. But I must look slightly worried, because as he passes me, he claps me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Grimmjow. I _always_ get my guy. Even if everyone else has moved on already, I won't rest until I've closed my cases for good."

He squeezes my shoulder lightly and leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft _click._

I sit there on the sofa for a while, quietly thinking about everything he'd told me. It made sense, in a way, that he'd been a police officer. I didn't know why it had surprised me so much. I don't really know how long I'm planning to stall. I finally force myself to get up and wander back to the office, where Ichi is.

I don't know when I started watching him like I like to. Maybe I always have, and just never noticed until someone else started to also. But I lean in the doorway, watching him as he hunches over his pages. I let my eyes travel over the curves of his lithe body, wandering down to his hands. Their ink-splattered and callused from holding pens and pencils for so many years, but their beautiful. He carefully blows on the page before running his long fingers over it gently. I clear my throat gently to get him to notice me without scaring him.

He looks up at me and smiles as he sets his drawing utensils down. He pushes his chair back and stands, coming over to hug me tightly.

He waits a few seconds before speaking, his face buried in my chest. "Whashinjsay?"

I can't understand what he'd said, but I chuckle anyway. "What was that, Ichi?"

He looks up at me, a small blush on his face. I don't know why he blushes so easily, but I love it. I lean down and kiss him gently on the forehead.

"I _said_, what did Shinji have to say?"

I rest my chin on the top of Ichi's head, thinking for a moment. I hear Ichi's stomach growl loudly, and he pulls away, giving me a sheepish look as color creeps back into his face. My heart feels like it's expanding in my chest. Fuck, I don't know when I fell so completely for him. But I know I'll never regret it.

I grin as I take his hand and lead him out of the office. He's been in there for most of the day, anyways. "Let's get some food in you, yeah? I'll fill you in while I cook."

"Mmkay," he murmurs, leaning into me and reaching up to kiss the side of my neck.

* * *

><p>Later, I find that I can't really sleep. It just won't come. My mind is turning things over again and again, trying to find an angle that Shinji maybe hadn't thought about. But it's pointless. After we'd met him the first time, I'd asked around about him. And everyone told me that he was the best. Sharp as a fucking sword and about as dangerous in a fight. He could hold his own and never let a case go cold. See, I'd already known that about him before he'd told me, but I wanted to hear it from him too. It's one thing to be good at something, but it's another thing to know you're good at something. And confidence goes a long way. But it was nice to know he wasn't arrogant or anything, even if he was kind of strange—<p>

Aw fuck, there I go again. I force myself to close my eyes and stop thinking. I need to get some sleep. And for a few moments, I think it's gonna work. Until my goddamn phone starts ringing.

It's in the living room, on the coffee table where I'd dropped it after work. From in here, the ringer sounds muted and quiet, but loud enough to pull me from the edge between sleep and awareness.

I sit up and rub my face, glancing at Ichigo. He's still sound asleep. Contrary to being put a bit on edge by Shinji's information, he had seemed relatively calmer. And I guess I can see why. It really was nice to know there were some leads and that this wasn't just some witch hunt. The ringing finally stops, and for a second I consider ignoring whoever it is. But a moment later, it starts again. I suppress a growl of frustration. Whatever it is, it better be pretty fucking important to call me about in the middle of the night.

I slip out of bed and pad silently out into hallway. I forget how cold it can get in here and wish I was wearing more than just silk boxers. You'd think I'd have learned by now to stop wandering around in my underwear in the middle of the night.

I reach the living room and pick up my phone, answering it just before the trilling stops.

"Hullo?" I answer. I'm aware of how husky and tired I must sound, but I don't care. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I'd assumed it would be Shinji or someone from work. But the voice on the other end sends chills down my spine.

"Leave him alone."

My mind goes completely blank. What the fuck. I don't even know how to respond. I have no idea what this dude is talking about. Leave who alone?

"The fuck're you talkin' 'bout?" I say ask quietly, but harshly. I hear sharp intake of breath over the line and it takes a moment before he speaks.

"Ichigo. Leave him the fuck alone!"

It clicks then, who this guy must be. And I know my face probably went white as a ghost. Dread and (although I hate to admit it) a tiny bit of fear crept up my spine, making me shiver.

"Listen, you little bastard," I say, voice rising louder than I knew it should. "Why don't _you_ leave him alone! You're the one who's fuckin'_ stalking_ him!"

There's silence for a moment, but I can't bring myself to hang up. I want to hear what he has to say, if that makes any sense. After what seems like a lifetime, he finally responds.

"I'm not, I don't wanna hurt him. He's my everything, my _k__ing._ Don't you get it? I just want to protect him..."

"Protect him from what?" I'm practically spitting I'm so pissed. He wants to protect Ichigo? Well too bad, that's my fucking job.

"From you!" Comes the haunting voice. "He doesn't understand that we were made to be together, and it's because of your poisonous lies!"

My entire body goes cold. I'd been kinda chilly before, being pretty much naked and all, but now I felt absolutely frigid. Frozen in place. The other man continues.

"But I'll make him see, I'll show him that he doesn't need you. And then we'll be together—"

I go from freezing to overwhelmingly hot in less than a second. The rage is so complete, so consuming. I'm not sure I've ever been this absolutely livid before in my life.

"I'm only gonna say this once, so pay attention, fucker. I swear to god, if you ever touch him, ever try to hurt him, I will fucking kill you." My voice is low, but still kind of loud. I want to make sure he gets the message real fuckin' clear.

"I'm not the least bit threatened by a sick little fucker like you, get it? You will never fucking have him. I won't allow it. And if you ever try to lay your slimy little hands on him, I will fucking _destroy_ you."

I don't wait for a response. I end the call just after I finish and chuck it at one of the couches. It hits the cushions with a soft _flump_ and bounces a few times before settling. I can understand now why Ichigo destroyed his own phone.

"Grimmjow?" His voice is quiet, still husky with sleep. I close my eyes and let my shoulders slump before slowly spinning around. I feel so incredibly bad for waking him.

He's poking his head out from the bedroom doorway, one hand resting against the wall of the hallway.

"Sorry, Ichi. I didn't mean to wake you." I smile at him, trying to reassure him that nothing's wrong. But his frown deepens and he comes out into the living room.

And I'm sorry, but I can't help but notice how beautiful he is again. Tanned skin that looks so pale in the dim moonlight, toned muscles, legs that go on for days. His hair is mussed up and sticking out at odd angles, but he's still the most beautiful person I've ever seen. How did I end up so lucky?

"Wha's wrong?" He asks. "What's happened?"

I shake my head. I don't want to tell him now, not when we both really need to sleep. But I know I won't sleep at all tonight, not after that. I sit on the armrest of the couch, suddenly exhausted.

"Grimmjow, talk to me." He says, coming up to stand next to me. He grips his elbows. I vaguely think that he must be cold too. "Who was that on the phone?"

I look up at him, then. From his voice alone, I can tell he heard me swearing. And from the look on his face, I can tell he knows who it was.

I just stare at him for a long moment. There were no words needed, like if we said anything, then it would somehow make it real. As if it wasn't already. His eyes ask a silent question, and all I can do is nod.

Ichigo sighs heavily, dropping his arms to his sides. He walks closer to me, settling between my spread legs and pressing himself against my chest. He tucks his head under my chin as I reach up and hold him tightly. I don't know how long we stayed like that, holding each other. Finally, he leaned back just enough to look at my face.

"We should tell Shinji."

I nod absently. "Later, Ichi. Right now, I just want us." I let my forehead drop to rest against his. I stare at his face even after his eyes slide shut. "Me too," he breathes.

He tentatively presses his lips against mine, softly. I respond just as gently, angling my head slightly. He's so good, so good to me. I don't even deserve it.

And I want him so badly all of a sudden that it literally hurts my chest. But I let him set the pace. And as much as it kills me, we keep it slow, deepening our kiss incrementally until we're both breathless. He places little butterfly kisses across my face and down my jawline to my neck. I tilt my head back, getting lost in the sensation.

A gentle touch makes me squeeze my eyes shut. He runs his hand against the hardening length in my boxers, sending shivers down my spine with how amazing it feels just to have his hands on my body. With just one fucking _touch_ he has me melting like putty.

He strokes me languidly, eventually reaching under the elastic waistband to feel my flesh. I arch into his hand as he moves it up and down, slowly quickening until I can feel my climax building. He nibbles on my collarbone and reaches up with his other hand and smooths one of the pads of his fingertips over my nipple. I groan quietly, slipping my hands into his boxers to grip his firm ass. He passes his hand up and down a few more times before running a fingernail against the slit. He begins alternating between stroking firmly and gently teasing the head.

The orgasm hits me like a freight train, making me shudder as I fill his hand with warmth. I gasp, seeing stars. He murmurs my name quietly and kisses the edge of my mouth. I capture his lips and stand as he helps me remove my boxers. He uses the sticky mess in his hand to coat my length thoroughly before sinking onto the couch and pulling me down on top of him.

We kiss passionately, but I eventually break it off so I can sit up and help him remove his own boxers. He runs his fingers through my hair and I'm already hard again. I grind our hips together, rubbing the swollen flesh of our erections against each other. He arches into me, pressing our chests together and moaning quietly. I waste no time, slowly pressing into him. Without proper preparation, I know it's gotta be a bit more painful than usual. When he adjusts, I keep the slow pace he'd started before, rocking in and out of him gently.

This time, it's all soft touches and tongues and sighs. It's quiet and sweet and beautiful. He wraps his legs around my middle and I rise up on my knees, leaning down to kiss him. He clenches around me and I growl low in the back of my throat. He groans quietly as I wrap my fingers around his dick, stroking in time with my movements. He opens his eyes and stares into mine as he comes to completion, only closing them when the peak lifts him away, his mouth opening and my name on his tongue.

I can feel his tight heat spasming around me and it pushes me over the edge. I ride out the waves of my second orgasm, completely lost. When the finally impulses have passed, I pull out and collapse next to him on the wide couch, twisting so he's more on top of me then I am on him. I pull the throw blanket down from the back of the couch and spread it over us, since neither of us have the motivation to get up and go back to bed.

Ichigo shifts and wraps his arms around my middle, resting his head on my chest. I hold him tightly, too. And I'd though that I wouldn't be able to sleep that night, but completely satisfied, I drift easily off to sleep, cradling my lover close.

* * *

><p><strong>So, any thoughts? Again, only one more week until I should be able to start focusing on this story a little more. But any reviews you might wanna leave are always appreciated! Love you guys!<strong>

**~Frankie**


	9. Escalation

**Hey all, hope this update finds everyone well. Sorry about the delay, but I moved back home for the summer and as it turns out, unpacking everything you own is pretty damn time consuming.**

**I should mention that some serious shit goes down in this chapter, as well as some fluff. Hope that's okay with everyone!**

**Also, I want to take the time to thank everyone who's commented on this so far. I read all the reviews I get and I really appreciate each and every one of them!**

**So now, let's get to it!**

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><p><em>Ichigo:<em>

* * *

><p>I am so fucking tired. I haven't slept through a night since he called Grimmjow. He told me about it, later. Told me how he basically said Grimmjow was an obstacle separating him from me. Told me how the bastard referred to me as his king. His fucking <em>king.<em> I just couldn't wrap my head around that one.

It had been three days since then. Grimm had called Shinji first thing the next morning. Shinji had rushed over and taken notes about everything they'd said to each other. It was kind of tedious, but also comforting in a weird way. A really weird way. But I like Shinji.

He recommended that we get rid of our phones. Change our numbers. That wasn't a problem for me, considering mine had been broken for nearly two weeks. Grimmjow hadn't seemed too keen on it though, but Shinji had left and shown up again later, bringing with him two pay as you go phones. Disposable burn phones, he called them. Impossible to trace. He instructed us to get rid of them and get new ones every few days.

I rub a hand over my face, staring at the phone laying next to my elbow on the smooth table top of my desk. I had become rather accustomed to not having a phone, so it's kind of weird to have one now.

But I have to ignore it. I have work to do. I turn back to the page I'm working on and pick up my pencil to finish it.

It's crazy how much work I do. I thought that working from home might be more relaxing or laid back. I was soo wrong. It's become a sort of escape for me, working has. It isn't even for the fun of it anymore. I get up when Grimmjow does, make him coffee and a bagel or something and wish him a good day at work. Then I get ready. And then I start drawing. I've lost track now, but I think I'm like, almost two weeks ahead of schedule. I send all the pages to Rukia as soon as I finish them and I know she must be relieved that I'm actually getting things done for once.

I don't stop, don't really even move until Grimmjow gets home again, hours and hours later. I know he's worried about me, but he's got his own shit to be worried about too. Like the whole corporate espionage thing at Espada Corp. And, you know, the fact that my stalker pretty much hates him.

I sigh and set my drawing utensils down. I can't stare at the white paper anymore. I think it might be starting to drive me insane.

I lace my fingers together and rest my forehead against them. I take a few deep breaths before pushing my chair back and heading out into the kitchen.

I'm not oblivious. I know part of the reason Grimm worries about me is because of how I look. The circles under my eyes have become darker and my cheekbones stand out more. Not eating regularly is really starting to take a toll on my body. But I'm just not hungry. I only really eat anymore when Grimmjow's around or explicitly orders me to.

But I'm really pretty lost in the kitchen, any kitchen. Grimmjow's the cook, not me. I rummage through the cabinets until I find some instant ramen noodles. And it's not like it even has much nutritional value anyways. Grimm would kill me if he saw me eating this. He doesn't believe in such "fake" food.

Fuck, when did I become such a Debbie-Downer? My thoughts are always stormy now, except when Grimmjow and I are together. He somehow calms all the storms. He quiets my heart and the troubles that live there, smothering them with his tight embraces.

The microwave beeps and I pull the steaming bowl out, setting it down quickly and wincing when my fingers sting from the heat. I locate a fork and stir it around a bit, waiting for it to cool enough to eat. Finally, it's okay, so I pick it up and take it back to the office. I'm comfortably settled in my chair, raising the first bite to my lips when I notice a little light on my phone blinking.

Sighing, I set the bowl down and pick up the phone, curious. Honestly, the only people who have this number are Grimmjow and Shinji. I hadn't even given it to my dad yet. I press a few buttons and raise the slim device to my ear, waiting until the first message begins.

"_Seriously, Ichigo? Wha's the point of havin' a phone if yer not gonna pick it up? It's important, so call me back as soon as you get this."_

Shinji's voice. It's only from nine minutes ago, but it's the first message of three. After a small pause, the next one plays automatically. It's Shinji again.

"_Ichigo, pick up yer fuckin' phone. It's about Grimmjow. Something's happened and I really need to talk to you!"_

My blood runs absolutely cold. Grimmjow? What the fuck happened? And how did it manage to happen at the exact same time I left to make soup? The next message begins, and it's a voice I don't recognize at all.

"_This is the Karakura Police Department, calling for Kurosaki Ichigo. Earlier today, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was involved in an automobile accident. He is currently in stable condition, but he is being transferred to Karakura Hospital for treatment. If you could give us a call back, we'd like to discuss the circumstances surrounding the accident..."_

I didn't listen anymore. I end the voicemail and immediately dial a cab service. I race around the flat, grabbing my jacket, bag and shoes, before flying out into the hallway. I have to wait a short while in the lobby before the cab arrives, but quickly get in once it does.

I see the driver look at me in the rearview mirror. I give him a hard look. "Karakura Hospital, please."

"Alright," he says, shifting out of park, "that's gonna be about twenty minutes."

I lean forward a bit, catching his eye in the mirror. "I'll pay you double if you can get me there in half that."

The cabbie looks at me for a long second before shrugging and tearing out of the parking lot.

* * *

><p>I hate hospitals, I really do. I avoid them like the goddamn plague. It's the smell, I think, cold and clinical, that brings back the memories.<p>

The white walls feel like they're closing in on me, pressing in from all sides until I'm sure I'll suffocate. I feel like a child again, scared and trembling and confused, wondering why everyone's running and shouting. I can see the images so vividly. I feel like I can reach out and touch her, pick up her limp and bloodstained hand. I hear my tiny, nine-year-old voice making all those old promises to her.

"_I promise I'll clean my room more often, mom, please wake up!"_

"_I promise I'll stop being mean to Yuzu and Karin! Mom..."_

"_I'll even stop crying, I'll never cry again! Mommy, please! Please..."_

It was raining that day. I ran out into the street to grab the umbrella that had been torn from my hands by the wind. I never even saw the truck until it was all over. She saved my life that day, at the expense of her own.

Funny thing is, even though she died, I still kept all my promises. I kept my room at home immaculately clean, almost to the point of obsession. I teased my sisters, but never mercilessly and I was always there for them when they needed me. And as far as I remember, I haven't cried once since then.

I shudder and pull myself out of such morbid thoughts. It's been awhile since I've allowed myself to think about it, to let the old scars resurface.

I'm sitting in one of the waiting rooms on an incredibly uncomfortable bench. I must've gotten here right after they began treating Grimmjow, because it's been almost an hour and they still haven't let me see him. They won't even tell me who badly he's been injured.

But I did talk to some cops. They told me that Grimmjow's little sports car is totaled, mashed into a little cube. Okay, that last part was added on by my overactive imagination. It's all I can picture when I think about it. They also said that his injuries weren't life threatening, that he'll be okay.

But I don't care what they say. I won't believe a single word of it until they allow me in to see him.

But then the cops got to the "circumstances" around the accident that they'd mentioned on the phone. Apparently, it was some kind of hit-and-run, and they still haven't identified the other driver. They've already talked to Shinji about it, so they already knew about my stalker friend. All they ask of me is whether or not I've had any more contact with my mystery man than has already been documented. I'm incredibly pleased to say that no, I haven't talked to that motherfucker in weeks.

But now it's been half and hour since I've talked to the police, and I still haven't seen Grimmjow. And between the painful memories trying to resurface and the threat of my stalker hurting my loved ones, my anger level is really high and dangerously close to boiling over into rage. And I swear to god that if I don't get some answers soon, then I will storm the trauma unit, the ICU, even the goddamn the psych ward if I have to, to make sure my boyfriend is okay.

But just as I stand from the stupid butt-numbing bench, a doctor comes over and addresses me.

"Kurosaki Ichigo?" I can only nod dumbly, fear suddenly constricting my throat as hundreds of "what-ifs" fly through my brain in a whirlwind. The doctor gestures toward the door. "If you'll follow me, Mr. Jaegerjaques has been asking for you."

I follow, my legs propelling me forward by mere instinct. My hearing has turned off and everything the doctor's saying is rolling right over me. I think he's explaining the extent of Grimmjow's injuries, but I can't hear him. None of it will matter until I see him.

We wind our way through several hallways, even taking an elevator up two flights, before the doctor finally stops before one of the private rooms and opens the door for me.

Grimmjow is sitting on the edge of the bed, his long legs hanging over the end as a nurse flits around him, checking his vitals one last time. I vaguely recall the doctor saying they want to keep him overnight, but he's been resolutely refusing to do any such thing.

I stand in the doorway for the longest second of my life, just staring at him. Three broken ribs, dislocated right shoulder, broken right wrist, multiple small lacerations along his face and neck, minor concussion, and a large purple bruise darkening one of his cheekbones.

But he's alive.

He turns his head slightly and looks at me, unspoken emotions in his eyes, but then he flashes his signature grin. He shakes the nurse off and rather gruffly orders her to get out. The doctor waits for her to leave, then shuts the door behind him, leaving me and Grimmjow alone.

I stand just inside the door for another few seconds, rooted to the ground and unable to believe that he really is okay. Grimmjow has to say my name twice before I'm finally able to force myself to move.

I close the distance between us in only a few steps, coming to stop directly in front of him. I don't say anything, and I don't wait for him to say anything either. I just kiss him, hard. I know I'm probably hurting the split lip he's sporting, but I don't care. And apparently, he doesn't either. He wraps his good arm around me and pulls me closer, pressing our chests together while simultaneously slipping his tongue into my mouth. I can feel his desperation, and I'm sure he senses mine too.

We pull away for air and I rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes. I reach up and cup the sides of his face, smoothing the hair on the nape of his neck with my fingertips.

"I love you, Grimmjow," I breath, the words barely audible. I can feel him sigh softly against me. "I love you too, Ichigo." He moves and kisses me gently on my forehead, my nose, my eyelids, everywhere, before returning his forehead to rest against mine.

I smile slightly and wrap my arms around his neck, careful not to put pressure on his injured shoulder. "I'm really, really glad you're not dead." I say, and he laughs at that, before pressing his hand into his side and groaning. "Yeah, Ichi, me too."

We just hold each other for a few more moments until someone raps sharply on the door, interrupting us. Just as we separate slightly, Shinji opens the door and pokes his head in. He seems relieved, but casts a dark scowl in my direction.

"Well, I'm glad ya got the messages, Ichigo, but a call back woulda been really nice." He advances into the room, glaring at me. "I even went ta yer guys's apartment, jus' ta make sure ya weren't dead or somethin'. Then lo and behold! Yer already here."

I duck my head sheepishly. I totally forgot to call him back. "Look, Shinji, I'm really sorry. I just...I had to see him, you know? I couldn't really think about anything else until then."

Grimmjow pulls me back in, tight against his chest, and kisses me on the side of my neck. Shinji sighs and waves his hand back and forth, dismissing it. "Yeah yeah, whatever."

He pulls one of the chairs out of the corner and drags it around to the foot of the bed, positioning himself closer to us. He slouches down and braces his elbows on the wooden armrests, lacing his fingertips together and giving Grimmjow a hard stare.

"So, Grimmjow. I've already talked to the cops and heard their version, but I want ta hear it from you: what exactly happened?"

Grimmjow sighs deeply and rubs a hand over his face. "Do we have to do this now?"

Shinji nods once. "Yes. I need ta hear the details while they're still fresh in yer mind."

Grimmjow sighs again. I can tell how tired and weary he is, just from that sound. I nudge him and crawl onto the bed to sit next to him as he shifts over to give me more room. I hold his uninjured hand in both of mine.

"I was sitting in my car at an intersection, waiting to turn. Just as I pulled out into the middle of the intersection, he slammed into the driver's side of my car."

I'm watching him carefully. Grimmjow seems focused more on the past, reliving the accident.

"It was like the world just sort of exploded. It was really loud and felt like it was happening in slow motion or something. When everything stopped moving, I undid my seat belt and tried to get out of the car. But the airbag made it hard to move, and the door was all crunched in. I looked out and saw the other vehicle—a truck, just in time to see the driver get out and flee."

I squeeze Grimmjow's hand in mine and lift it to my lips, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles.

"Did you see his face?" Shinji asks, sitting forward in his chair. Grimmjow shakes his head. "No, He was wearing a jacket with the hood up, and sunglasses to hide his eyes. I didn't even see him for very long, just a few seconds at the most while the coward ran away."

All of us are silent for several long seconds. But there's an obvious elephant in the room.

"So, um, do you think this is related to my stalker?" I ask hesitantly, eyeing Shinji. He only snorts. "Well, according to the cops, this has ta be treated as its own, separate case. But yes, _I_ think it's definitely related. In fact, I'd bet my left arm that the driver _was_ the stalker."

He stands and begins pacing the small room.

"But he's moving really fast, now. He's been watchin' you fer months, then suddenly, over the span of a couple'a weeks, escalates from watching to contacting to directly interacting in yer lives. In a dangerous way."

Shinji's talking more to himself than us, I suspect. Most of what he's saying is being muttered under his breath, interspersed with swearing and frustrated hand gestures. If it was any other situation, I might have found it amusing, but with a bruised and broken Grimmjow sitting right next to me, I can only feel the crushing weight of the reality of our situation.

I glance up at Grimmjow. "Wanna get out of here?" I ask quietly, lips close to his ear. He squeezes my hand and nods, flashing me a quick smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

"Look, Shinji," I say, standing from the bed. "Is there any way we can get an update about everything tomorrow? I'm tired, I know Grimmjow's tired—not to mention sore, and you could probably use some rest too."

Shinji nods. "Uh, yeah, that's fine. I'll come by yer place around seven again?"

I glance at Grimmjow before nodding. "That'll work. See you then."

I help Grimmjow stand and make it to the door, Shinji right behind us. He gives us a short wave before heading deeper into the hospital.

"Where's he going?" I say, but Grimmjow only shrugs. "With that guy, it's impossible to know."

I call a cab and we slowly make our way down to the lobby after several wrong turns. Hospitals are confusing places. Along the way, we stop at a pharmacy and pick up Grimmjow's prescription for pain pills. When we finally make it outside, the cab is waiting for us.

I help Grimmjow get in before sliding in next to him. I give the cabbie our address and settle in. I'm on Grimm's good side, holding his hand. He's already got his head tipped back and his eyes closed. I smile to myself and turn away, staring out at the passing cars and scenery.

I can't believe how relieved I am to know that Grimmjow's okay. I can feel the stress leaving my body the closer we get to home. But it's replaced with another sort of fear.

I could have lost Grimmjow today. A slightly different angle, higher speed, other car, anything could have changed the outcome to something far worse. And it would have been all my fault. Maybe not directly, of course, but if _my_ stalker ended up killing Grimmjow, it would be my fault. And I don't think I could handle that much guilt on top of the grief. I've already experienced that, and it took me years to put it behind me. Even now though, I'll still feel sharp pangs of guilt and remorse and sadness if I think about my mom's death too long.

And I don't think I could ever survive that again. I can't let Grimmjow get hurt because of me, not again. And as hard as it is for me to even contemplate, there's only one way I can think of to make sure he never does.

"Hey," Grimmjow says, squeezing my hand and pulling me closer to him. I look up but find myself barely able to meet his eyes. "Stop that."

I frown. "Stop what?" I ask. He only snorts. "Stop thinking about it. 'Cause it's not gonna happen." He says it so resolutely, that for a second I forget to be amazed that he practically read my mind.

"Grimmjow, I can't let you get hurt again."

"Well it's not your decision, Ich. I get a say here too, and I'm not about to leave when you need support the most."

I sit back against the seat. "Grimmjow, this isn't about you leaving. It's about not letting the people I love get hurt because of me. You could have died today! He almost killed you! How do you think I felt when I found that out? When they wouldn't let me in to see you, when they wouldn't even say how badly you were hurt?"

Grimmjow looks at me seriously. "He didn't almost kill me, Ichigo. He attacked me, and I proved that I could take it. I've already said that I'm not threatened by him, and I'm not gonna let him win by running and leaving you vulnerable. Understand?"

I do, I really do. But doesn't he understand that I wouldn't survive the guilt if something awful did end up happening to him?

"But Grimmjow—"

"No, no buts." He says, cutting me off. "You're trying to pull away and deal with all this shit on your own again, and I'm not gonna let you. This decision isn't just about you. I get that you want to protect me, but how do you think I would feel if I did leave and something happened to you, huh? It would be the exact same situation. So I'm gonna stay right here by your side, where I've always been."

Grimmjow pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it. I smile half-heartedly at the gesture, but I still can't find peace about any of this. Grimmjow must be able to see it in my eyes, the sadness and disbelief.

He turns and leans forward, poking his head into the front seat. "Stop here." The cabbie looks confused. "But we still have four blocks to go." He says. Grimmjow scowls. "I know that. But just stop here."

The driver pulls to the curb and Grimm pays him before kicking his door open and climbing out. I thank the driver and climb out after Grimmjow, frowning in confusion. "Grimmjow, what are we doing?"

Grimmjow takes my hand and holds it tightly. "Ichigo, I'm not gonna let you face this on your own, no matter how scared you are that something might happen to me."

I start to argue, but he quiets me with a soft kiss. I feel my stress start to instantly melt away, just from the simple embrace.

"I love you, Ichigo. You're it for me. I don't want anything else out of this life except you."

I glance up and notice that we're standing in front of a jewelry store and I frown. "Grimmjow, what are you saying?"

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Ichigo. That's what I'm saying. It may have taken me a year to realize it, but I've never been so sure of anything before. I want you by my side for the rest of my days. And I want to be by yours, supporting you in everything."

There's so many things running through my head right now that I can't even process this. "Are you...?"

He nods rolls his eyes, but gives me a genuine smile. "Yes, I'm proposing to you, Ichigo. Marry me, yeah?"

The skeptic in me says this has to be some kind of joke, but Grimmjow is the absolute picture of sincerity right now. I'm not sure I've ever seen him so serious about something before.

"That's not even legal-"

"It doesn't have to be. We can sort out the logistics of that later, but right now I still need your answer."

I stare up at him for a long moment before chuckling quietly and giving him a bright smile. "I love you. Yes, of course, yes."

He wraps his good arm around me and pulls me in for a deep kiss. I eventually pull away, nipping him lightly on the chin. "So why'd we have to get out here?" I ask, glancing up at him. He gives me a wolfish smile.

"Now what kind of fiancee would I be if I didn't get my bride-to-be an engagement ring?"

I shoot him a dark scowl as he takes my hand and pulls me toward the door, laughing. He opens the door for me, grinning as the bell chimes. "Ladies first," he says. I don't even hesitate before jabbing him softly in the ribs. I'm irritated at the jokes, but it doesn't even come close to the warmth spreading through my chest.

* * *

><p><strong>Aww, sad little Ichigo broke my heart with his flashback. It really was difficult to write that part :(<strong>

**But, I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I'll try to get the next update up faster this time!**

**~Frankie**


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